Goodbyes, Memories, and Revenge
by CardinalPerch
Summary: Based on the idea that Emily actually dies in "Lauren." See explanation in ch. 1 . Deals with Emily's death and how her memory haunts Morgan and Reid as they hunt Doyle. Obviously, CHARACTER DEATH. Some language, violence. First multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1  The Warehouse

_This story popped into my head when I saw some of the spoilers about Paget Brewster's upcoming exit from the show. I couldn't help but think that this send-off will probably be inferior to her faux send-off last year. Don't get me wrong. I am very, very glad we got to enjoy Paget and Emily in season 7. Prentiss is my favorite character and I think Paget is a stellar actress. However, the season 6 send-off just seemed like a much more natural exit for Prentiss. She's so tough and so selfless that it just makes sense that she would make the ultimate sacrifice for the people she loved. So, I tweaked the Doyle arc so that Prentiss actually does die. This story is a multi-chapter story about her death and how Morgan and Reid – the two team members I believe would carry the most guilt –deal with being haunted by her memory. It follows CM cannon until the very end of "Lauren." No pairings._

_Of course, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of the related characters or concepts. If I did, I never would have tried to fire Paget Brewster (or A.J. Cook) in the first place, and these horrible things would not be necessary._

At first, Emily felt more shock than pain. She had just turned to reach for the loose gun lying on the floor when she felt a crushing blow to the gut. She heard a heavy grunt escape her throat as she looked down in disbelief to see a bloody-faced Doyle holding one end of the broken table leg with which she had struck him just moments before. The other end of the leg – the sharp pointed end – was buried several inches inside of her abdomen.

The shock quickly began to give way to excruciating pain. Emily had taken more than her fair share of lumps in her five years at the BAU, but nothing came close to the agony that now seized her entire body as her new wound made its presence felt along with the dozens of internal injuries she had already surely suffered as a result of Doyle's savage beating.

"Where is he? Where's Declan?" she vaguely heard Doyle growl.

She ignored the question and managed to stager forward a few steps before collapsing onto her back.

"Emily, tell me. Tell me," he continued to implore, adjusting his body so that his bloody face hovered directly over hers. "Emily, tell me where he is."

"No," she managed to respond weakly, in a tone barely above a whisper. Emily felt the strength sapping from her body by the second. She began to realize that this was the end. She had had close brushes with death before, but it wasn't going to be cheated this time. She'd be damned if she was going to spend the last moments of her life giving up the boy who stole her heart years ago. Doyle may have indeed taken her life, but she wasn't going to let him win. She wasn't going to allow him to destroy Declan's innocence.

As her strength continued to wane and her breathing grew shallow, Emily barely registered the sounds of gunfire in the distance. At this, Doyle scrambled to his feet and made to escape, leaving Emily to lie alone in agony as the world around her began to fade.

At least the team is safe, she thought. She had left Quantico alone and come to Boston because it was the only way to protect Seaver, Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, Reid and Morgan. She allowed the memory of their faces on the last day at the BAU to flood her thoughts. She pictured them, and her mind was at peace.

-Derek felt the adrenaline raging through his veins as he navigated the corridors of the warehouse. He was probably being reckless, taking the lead when the better-armed and protected SWAT team was behind him. He didn't care. He had to find her. He had already lost his father, his cousin. He wasn't about to lose Emily. He couldn't.

As Derek turned the corner into a large, dark room, his flashlight illuminated a figure sprawled on the floor.

"I got her!" he cried into the radio attached to his Kevlar. Panic began to build as he registered the scene before him. Prentiss lying on the floor. Prentiss with a stake protruding from her stomach. Prentiss dying.

"I got her in the basement on the south side! I need a medic!"

"Prentiss," he said softly. He was horrified by her appearance. She was just a shell of his strong, beautiful friend. Her face was ghostly pale, colored only by the caked blood on her cheek and below her nose. Blood flowed freely from the wound in her abdomen.

"Morgan?" came her feeble response. She sounded like a child.

The weakness in her voice broke Morgan's heart. How could he have been so angry with her? She had done this all to protect a child and to protect the team. While he was busy fuming over her deceit, she was laying her life on the line to protect him. There were still a few issues he'd like to clear up, but those weren't important. What mattered was keeping his friend with him.

"Hey, it's me. I'm right here," he sad gently. "You're gonna be alright."

Her half-closed eyes locked onto his. He reached out to take her hands, a slight anger boiling within him as he realized that they were cuffed. As he grasped her cold hands he saw that she was losing the battle to keep her eyes open.

"Stay with me baby!" he begged her, his voice betraying his panic. "Come on stay with me!"

-Emily wished more than anything that she could stay with him. She wished she had the power to undo everything that had happened in the last month. She wished things could go back to the way they were before. But Emily also knew that it wasn't possible. Her body and her mind both told her that. She was slipping away and growing too weak to hold on much longer.

Emily was not afraid of dying. After weeks of endless worry and the agonizing pain of the last several hours, the last moment would come as a welcome relief. Besides, her death guaranteed the team's safety, and that was worth more than her life. They were her family, and family is worth dying for. For the first time, Emily Prentiss couldn't fight anymore. It's not that she was giving up, she just simply had nothing left with which to fight. She was prepared to face the end, and having Morgan by her side would make things a little bit easier.

But she knew Morgan wasn't ready to say goodbye. He would blame himself, torture himself. Emily didn't want him to go through that, so she conjured up the last of her strength to let him know that it was okay, that it was time.

Emily opened her eyes and stared determinedly into Derek Morgan's one last time.

"Let me go," she told him.

Derek couldn't bear to hear the words that passed from his friend's lips. He wished he could force them back into her, make them disappear.

"No," he cried. "No, I am not letting you go."

"Help me!" he screamed. Why weren't the medics coming? Dammit, there was no time!

Derek had to make Emily understand that he wasn't angry at her. He had to make her understand that he was proud of her, that he loved her, that she was his friend. He had to make her understand that he needed her.

"Listen to me," he begged. "I know why you did all of this. I know what you did for Declan. I am so proud of you. Do you understand that? Am proud of you because you are my friend, and you are my partner."

Derek saw Emily's eyes falter, then close.

"No Emily!" he cried. "Stay with me!"

He began to lose the battle against the tears forming in his eyes.

"If you can hear me, please just squeeze my hand," he pleaded.

After what seemed an eternity, he felt her grip tighten ever so faintly. He wasn't sure if she was trying to hold on or if she was saying goodbye, but he clung on to the last strand of hope.

"Yes. There you go. There you go, Em. Just keep squeezing."

_These first four or so chapters serve as a setup for the main thrust of the story. This chapter obviously borrows heavily from "Lauren" with some added insight into Derek and Emily's thoughts. Please R&R. This is my second fanfic and first multi-chapter. I'm always open to feedback and suggestions. _

_Side note: I had to watch the Morgan-Prentiss "death" scene in "Lauren" about five times to get this chapter right. It almost destroyed me emotionally._


	2. Chapter 2  Prentiss Lets Go

_This is the chapter in which I start to deviate from "Lauren." It killed me to write this. I hope I did Prentiss justice._

After what seemed an eternity, three medics came running into the basement, followed closely by Hotch.

"Stab wound to the abdomen," a sand-haired male medic said hurriedly. "We need to stop the hemorrhaging now."

"We'll have to get that stake out of her," a second, younger medic replied.

"We have to get her in the ambulance first," the third, a pony-tailed middle-aged woman, insisted. "We can take it out on the way to the hospital. She needs to be in the OR stat. If we delay, she'll bleed out for sure."

"Sir, I need you to step aside so we can work," the woman told Morgan in a commanding yet sympathetic voice.

Morgan could only stare back with a look of incomprehension. She couldn't possibly be suggesting that he leave Emily's side, that he let go of her.

"Sir!" the medic stated more urgently.

"Morgan," Derek recognized the voice of his unit chief. Hotch still had a controlled demeanor, but just barely. His voice was laden with concern.

"Morgan, you need to let go. You have to let them save her."

Derek gave Emily's hand one last squeeze.

"Hold on Prentiss," he said. "Don't you dare leave me."

He then rose silently to his feet and watched helplessly as the medics lifted his friend onto a gurney. He sprinted to keep up as they rushed her to the ambulance, managing to catch one brief glance of her face before the doors slammed shut and they took her away.

"Please don't leave me," he whispered.

-Emily drifted in and out of awareness as she was whisked out of the warehouse and into the ambulance. She felt Derek's last squeeze, heard his last plea. It was a plea she could not grant, but she promised herself she would at least try for him. She would hold on until the bitter end.

Her focus began to drift. She was vaguely aware of the frantic talk of the paramedics, which she heard only as an indistinct, muffled noise, as if their conversation was taking place a mile above her. She thought she felt them pull that damned stake out of her gut. A few moments later, everything faded to black.

Suddenly, Emily saw a blinding light, and felt as if she had suddenly been jerked upward.

"We got her back," she barely heard a man's voice say. "Stay with us Agent Prentiss."

The ambulance arrived at the hospital's emergency entrance. The medics scrambled to lift the gurney out of the ambulance and transfer Prentiss to the waiting team of emergency surgeons.

Emily barely registered her surroundings. Medically, the was unconscious, but her inner self was aware that the jostling of her body meant that a team of doctors stood above, trying desperately to keep her alive. They would not succeed.

The blackness began to creep in once again, and this time it was accompanied by a strange feeling. Emily felt herself growing light, as if she were floating. There would be no coming back this time. It was the end.

"Goodbye guys," she thought to herself. "Please forgive me. Please try to understand. I had to do this. I did it for you. I did it because I had to. If I had a chance to take it back, I wouldn't. I have to go now. I'm not afraid."

Emily Prentiss let go.

The piercing beep from the monitor permeated the entire room. The doctors scrambled for the paddles. Once, twice, a dozen times they tried to bring the beautiful, bloodied brunette woman back to life. They readied for a yet another attempt and delivered the charge. Nothing.

The eldest doctor removed his mask and glanced at the clock. His worn face and blue eyes were heavy with the sadness of yet another loss.

"Time of death, 12:17 a.m."

-_Trust me, I hate myself for killing Prentiss, I really do. But that's what the story demanded. Like I said, I hope I did her justice. You can let me know by reviewing the chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3  The News

_So this chapter is fairly long. I thought about splitting it into two chapters, but couldn't really find a natural breaking point. Hope you enjoy._

JJ sat alone in a chair just outside the operating room. She stared blankly at the floor, existing only in the moment. She did not want to consider what might happen when the doors beside her opened.

The team had all agreed that JJ should be the one to wait for word from the doctors. Although she now worked at the Pentagon, her years as liaison for the BAU still left her the most experienced at receiving and delivering news, both good and bad. But this was different, JJ thought. As hard as it was to deal with any victim, Emily was not just some victim. She was JJ's friend, maybe her best friend. Even after JJ's transfer to the Pentagon, she, Emily and Garcia made it a point to meet for girl's night out as often as possible. They shopped together, had coffee together, went out for drinks together, and chatted about men together. They had even planned on trying to coordinate their periods of leave later in the year and take a girl's trip to Paris. JJ and Garcia were anxious to try some Parisian shopping and Emily wanted to make another visit to the country she enjoyed so much as a child.

Now that might all be ripped away. JJ pushed the thought out of her mind before it could make her sick. Right now, Emily was still fighting for her life on the other side of those doors. JJ wasn't about to give up on her.

She though about the team, huddled in the waiting room just around the corner. Part of her wish she had stayed with them. She could support them and they her. Yet JJ knew that it was probably for the best that she wasn't with them at the moment. She hadn't yet had a chance to talk to them outside of the context of the Doyle case, and having a reunion while desperately waiting for news on Emily wasn't a prospect that was appealing to JJ. So she waited, and hoped.

JJ heard the unmistakable sound of doors opening beside her. She took one deep breath before allowing herself to look up from the floor, stealing herself for whatever was to come. One look at the doctor's face told her that it wasn't what she wanted.

"Miss Jeureau?" the ashen faced doctor inquired. "I'm so sorry. We tried everything, I swear to you we did, but we lost her before we could even finish the operation."

JJ buried her face in her palms as the tears began to flow. This couldn't be real. Emily was so strong, so tough. Her smile was infectious. Her laugh filled a room. She was brilliant. People like that didn't just go away, didn't just disappear.

After a moment, the old agent in JJ kicked in. She collected her emotions and gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Thank you," she managed to tell the doctor.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. JJ could tell his sympathy was genuine. He placed his hand briefly on her shoulder and then turned back through the double doors, leaving JJ alone again.

JJ stood and turned toward the waiting room. As walked down the hall, she steeled herself to deliver the worst news she would ever deliver, to the people she loved like family.

The silence in the waiting room weighed heavily on every member of the team. Yet no one dared to speak. Nothing needed to be said. Nothing could be said.

Ashley Seaver sat huddled in her chair, her knees pressed against her chest. She didn't belong here. As much as she had enjoyed her time working with the BAU, especially Emily and Dave, who readily took her under their wings, this wasn't her team. And why Emily? Emily had been her supervisor, her mentor. Now Ashley wasn't sure if she'd ever see her again. Nothing at the Academy prepared an agent for this. She wasn't ready. She couldn't take it, so she stared at the tiles on the floor and tried her best to disappear.

Penelope Garcia felt lost. Emily was like Derek. A superhero. Invincible. Even when things seemed to be at their most dangerous, like when she was being smacked around by that religious cult freak in Colorado, Emily bounced back as if nothing had happened. So why wasn't Emily here with them, giving out hugs (and maybe a few explanations) as Doyle was hauled off to spend forever in a dark hole?

Derek's state made things even harder. Derek was her chocolate thunder god, the one who held her and told her everything would be okay. The one who chuckled when she started to fret too much. Derek was her rock. But that rock seemed to have crumbled. Derek may be sitting by her side, but this time he seemed as lost as Penelope and it was this that scared her more than anything.

"Emily, you better get healed soon and make this right," she though. "You better come home."

Garcia wasn't wrong when she guessed that Derek was as lost as she. He couldn't stop seeing Emily's face. That beautiful face, covered in blood. Her eyes staring weakly into his. He still felt the touch of her hand in his.

Most of all, he couldn't get her voice out of his head.

"Let me go," she had asked him, no, told him.

How could she tell me that, he thought. How could she think that after all they'd been through together, after all of the time they'd spent looking out for one another, that he could just let her go. Derek wouldn't do it. She couldn't leave him if he refused to let her go.

Aaron Hotchner stared straight ahead. Outwardly, he appeared as stoic as ever. Inside he was reeling. He had sworn to Clive Easter that he would save her, and he hadn't allowed himself to doubt that for a second. He couldn't afford to. Prentiss needed them, and he concentrated all of his efforts onto finding her.

Now he didn't have that distraction. They succeeded in finding her, but it may have been too late. Hotch kicked himself for allowing this to happen. He knew something had been bothering her lately, they all knew. But out of respect for her he didn't push the issue. After she had been so supportive yet respectful of him during the entire Foyet saga and Hayley's death, he figured he at the very least owed her some privacy. He assumed she would be able to handle whatever it was that bothered her. After all, she compartmentalized better than any member of the team, even him.

But Hotch had miscalculated badly, and now they might never see her again. He wasn't sure if the team would recover if that happened. They had seen terrible things, that was certain. But they had never lost one of their own. Hotch did not know how they would react, and he hoped desperately that he wouldn't have to find out.

David Rossi alternated between standing and sitting. He even ventured to pray, something he hadn't done in years. Dave didn't know if there was anybody or anything there to answer him, but he felt like he needed to be doing something for Emily. This was one thing he could do.

Dave suspected that he might be the only member of the team who wasn't at least slightly angry or hurt over the truth about Emily. During his time in the Marine Corps, he learned that duty sometimes required doing things one wouldn't ordinarily do. In her role with JTF-12, Emily fulfilled a duty only a handful people were capable of fulfilling. Her job was difficult and dangerous and required the utmost discipline and secrecy. She did it exceptionally. Dave wasn't surprised to see in her CIA file that she had earned a citation for bravery on the job.

In fact, underneath his concern for her survival, Dave couldn't help but be impressed. He had always known there was more to her than met the eye. She had confided in him a few time in the past, and he intended to take her secrets to the grave. He assumed there plenty more secrets she kept herself. Yet, while he prided himself on being the ultimate profiler, he never suspected the truth. She had played her part perfectly, and now she might pay the ultimate price for it. Dave prayed that she wouldn't, and vowed that if she made it, he would be sure to support her through every step of her recovery. She would need somebody beside her who understood what she had done and why. Dave understood completely.

Spencer paced incessantly across the floor of the waiting room as his prodigious memory tortured him relentlessly. He recalled every conversation he had with Emily over the last month and berated himself for not realizing something was very wrong. He remembered the very last time he saw her. Her face briefly betrayed a look of worry when he mentioned the surveillance photos from Doyle's Tuscan villa. Reid had failed to connect the dots. Seventeen days before, he had been too quick to let her off the hook after he heard her say, "Lauren Reynolds is dead." He knew her intonation was inconsistent with her claim that Lauren Reynolds was a friend of hers who passed away. But he dropped the issue. If they lost her now, he would never forgive himself.

Although he was furious with himself for ignoring the now obvious signs, Reid was angry with Emily too. Deep down he knew why she did what she did, but he had a hard time dealing with the fact that she hadn't trusted the team, that she hadn't trusted him. After a rocky start to their relationship thanks to his drug abuse, Emily became the closest thing to an older sibling Reid could ever have. She protected him without patronizing him, and he trusted her implicitly. That's why he confided in her, and her alone, about his headaches. Yet while he shared his secrets with her, she kept hers from him. This left him angry, and a little hurt.

Reid reprimanded himself for his self-centeredness. Emily has sacrificed herself more than once now to protect him, and she was fighting for her very survival because of it. He didn't think he could handle losing her. It had been hard enough to see Elle and Gideon leave. At least Spencer knew they were both still out there somewhere, hopefully finding the happiness that once eluded them. Losing JJ had been tough as well, but he still saw her fairly often. That wouldn't be the case with Emily. If he lost her now, she would be gone forever. Just gone. Spencer wasn't ready to say goodbye.

JJ saw all six team members look up as she entered the waiting room. They silently begged her to give them good news, to tell them that Emily was okay, that they could see her soon. JJ couldn't do this. Not this time. It hurt too much. The words caught in her throat as tears began to well in her eyes once again.

The room full of BAU agents didn't need words to understand.

"No," Garcia whispered, pleading with JJ to take back words she hadn't even uttered.

"She never made it off the table," JJ finally managed to choke out.

Seaver's gaze faltered and fell to the floor. Garcia began to sob uncontrollably as Derek sat helpless to console her, falling into a state that JJ strongly suspected was shock. Tears formed in Rossi's eyes, a sight JJ never expected nor desired to see. Hotch glanced downward for a moment, then left the room, no doubt trying to get control of himself for the sake of his team.

The reaction that broke JJ's heart the most was Spencer's. He looked momentarily lost, almost childlike. This JJ expected. But suddenly he rose and began walking purposefully toward the doorway.

JJ panicked. She couldn't let him see Emily alone. At least not yet, not before he even had a fully chance to process the news. His emotional state would be shattered. She moved to block his path.

"Spence," she began.

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye," he said weakly, looking childlike once again.

"Come here," she said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into a tight embrace. Spencer lost what little control he had maintained to that point, crying freely onto her shoulder. JJ knew immediately she made the right decision in making him wait to see Emily. She wished she could do more for him, but there was nothing she could say. She was reeling just as much. Emily was important to every single one of them, an essential part of their lives. A part they took for granted for five years. A part that was gone forever.

JJ stood for a few moments in her silent embrace with Spencer. When he finally began to gather himself a bit, JJ knew it was time. She left Reid and approached Hotch at the other end of the hallway.

"We have to say goodbye," she said.

"I know," he replied.

-_Only one more chapter of set-up, then I promise to get into the main thrust of the story. I promise to be quick. Please R&R. I'm always looking for ways to improve!_


	4. Chapter 4 The Goodbyes

_This is the last chapter of set-up. Everything after this will take place post-"Lauren" in a slightly AU. Thanks for being patient._

A nurse guided the team through a quiet wing of the hospital to the door of a small room where Emily's body had been moved.

"Please take all the time you need," the nurse said compassionately. "When you're ready, I'll be at the desk at the end of the hallway."

"What's going to happen to her?" Reid asked softly.

"We've already contacted Agent Prentiss' next of kin, her mother," the nurse replied. "From my understanding, she is on her way back from Italy and has requested that the body be returned home to Washington."

"Emily," Spencer corrected.

"I'm sorry?" the nurse replied.

"She requested that Emily be returned home to Washington," the young agent said defiantly.

"Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. Emily," the nurse replied apologetically. "Anyway, I'll leave you alone now. Please let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you," Hotch replied quietly as the nurse departed.

The team continued lingering outside the door. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They all knew that entering the room and seeing Emily would make it real, and none of them were prepared to accept that. After several moments of silence, Morgan finally spoke.

"Hotch, I think we should each go in alone," he said. "Emily said once that she wanted to be cremated, so this might be our only chance to say goodbye. I know we're a team and we do things together, but this is different, man. This needs to be personal."

"Morgan's right," Rossi interjected. "All of us need to be able to do this in our own way."

Hotch took a second to consider the proposal and then nodded silently. This was they way things needed to be.

Seaver spoke up suddenly.

"Agent Hotchner, I can't do this. I'm not really a part of this team yet. I shouldn't be here. I have no place going in that room."

Under normal circumstances, Hotch would have told Seaver that as long as she wanted to work with his team, she ought to consider herself a part of it. But these weren't normal circumstances. Ashley really wasn't part of a team yet. She had only been there for a couple of months. She didn't share the familial and emotional bonds the rest of the team had established over a number of years. She may have looked up to Emily, but she didn't love her like they did.

"That's alright," the unit chief responded. "You can go back to the waiting room if you want."

Keeping her gaze downward, Seaver quickly weaved her way through the team members and disappeared down the hall. The rest of the team returned to standing in silence. None were prepared to be the first to walk into the room. This time, the unit chief broke the silence.

"I'll go," Hotch said. He approached the door, turned the knob, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and entered the room, closing the door gingerly behind him.

Emily lay with her eyes closed on a table in the middle of the room. A soft white blanket covered all but her face and part of her hand. A single chair sat next to the table, but Hotch decided to remain standing.

As he stared into the pale and vacant face of one of the finest agents, one of the finest human beings, he had ever known, Hotch recalled the day Emily Prentiss first appeared at the BAU. Her assignment came as a surprise to both him and Gideon, and he immediately suspected a political ploy. Even as she proved herself to be a smart, capable agent and fine profiler, Hotch continued to view her with suspicion. It wasn't until she attempted to resign rather than provide information on him to Strauss that Hotch realized how badly he had misjudged her.

"Emily, I hope you can forgive me for not realizing right away what a wonderful, beautiful person you are. You deserved better from me, but you stuck with it anyway."

Tears began to flow down Hotch's face. Now that he was alone, he made no attempt to stop them.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry I failed. I just wish I you had never walked out that door and left us."

Hotch stood in silence for some time, continuing to let the tears fall. He then made to compose himself again before he left to rejoin the team. With his hand on the door, he turned to look at Emily Prentiss one last time.

"Don't worry about the team, they will make it through this, I will make sure of it. But I promise you that none of us will ever forget you or stop missing you, so don't you forget us. We love you, I love you, and always will."

With that, Aaron Hotchner pulled open the door and left the room.

The next person to enter was JJ. The blonde sat down in the chair beside Emily and took her hand.

"God Emily, I don't even know what to say. You weren't supposed to leave us. You weren't supposed to go away. Whose place am I going to go over to now when I need to escape the testosterone in my house? Who's going to keep me up to date on the BAU? Who the hell is going to remember Garcia's coffee order?" JJ began to grow increasingly emotional as she spoke to her friend.

"Why did you have to be so damn stubborn? So damn selfless? Why, Emily?"

Finally, JJ stopped and took a deep breath.

"Wherever you are now, I hope you finally found some peace. I hope you finally feel cared for, instead of having to care for everybody else. I love you Em, and God, I'm going to miss you so much."

JJ gave her friend's hand one final squeeze and placed it back at her side. She then stood up, and left the room.

Garcia planned to go in next, but she froze at the door and turned to Morgan.

"Derek, I can't do this. I can't see her like that. That isn't how I want to remember her."

Derek held Garcia tightly in his strong arms as she sobbed into his chest.

"Listen to me Baby Girl," he told her. "You don't have to do this. Nobody is going to think less of you if you don't, least of all Emily. She would never want to upset you."

"No," she said suddenly. "No I have to do this. No matter how yucky and awful and sad. I can't let her go without telling her goodbye."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Derek asked.

"No," she said, taking a deep, trembling breath. "No, I need to do this."

She walked back up to the door, pulled it open, and went inside.

Like JJ, Penelope sat beside Emily and took her hand. The tears continued to pour from her eyes and Penelope didn't think they would ever stop.

"Why, Em? Why? Why? Why? Did you think we could just forget you? Did you forget how much we care about you? I just don't understand how you thought it was okay to walk away from your family."

"But then again, there is a lot I don't understand about you. I don't understand how you were so tough, so strong. I don't understand how you came to Boston knowing you might never go home. I guess it was because you loved us. I just hope you know that I love you just as much Em. You always made me smile, made me laugh, even in the middle of all those evil things we saw."

"I'm going to be sad for awhile, but I know that's not what you want. So I promise to try not to be sad forever. I promise that one day I'll be able to remember you and be happy."

Penelope replaced Emily's hand. Then she kissed her own hand and touched it to Emily forehead.

"I love you, E," she said. Then she hurried out of the room and collapsed sobbing into Morgan's arms.

Rossi was the next to enter the room. He stood beside Emily and placed his hand on her shoulder.

Dave didn't want to believe the site before his eyes. It was so out of place, so wrong. In many ways, Emily reminded him of himself. She was a sharp, stubborn profiler with a wonderfully sarcastic sense of humor who could be a bit abrasive and temperamental when annoyed. Both of them grew up in Catholic households. Neither were close to their family, they were fierce loners whose jobs were their lives. Finally, both of them had tragic secrets buried in their past, although Emily didn't know about Dave's.

But in many ways, Dave thought, Emily had been a better person than him. It wasn't that he didn't care about people, but he was also well aware that his ego sometimes kept him from connecting with people. Emily didn't have an arrogant bone in her body. Confident yes, arrogant no.

Dave had seen a lot of good people lose their lives throughout his time in the military and the FBI, but he knew this time was different. Emily would stick with him in a way none of the others had.

Dave only had a few words for Emily, but they were important and from the heart.

"I'm proud of you Emily," he told his fallen friend. "The others might not understand yet, though they will in time, but I understand what you did, and I understand why. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing."

He paused.

"I hope you finally found some peace, kiddo. You deserve it."

He bent down, lightly kissed her forehead, and left the room.

Spencer wasn't sure why he had been so anxious to see her. He read in a psychology book once that people have an innate curiosity to see things before they believed them. But Reid didn't want to believe this. Emily was one of his best friends, part of his family. He would have been content to live his entire life without seeing her like this.

No, the reason Reid needed to see Emily was so he could at least say goodbye. But as he sat by her side, he couldn't find the words. No book, no statistics, no facts could prepare him for this. Finally Reid simply broke down. He laid his head and arms across her body and began to cry.

"It's just not fair," he said to her. "Why didn't you tell us where you were going? I know you wanted to protect us, but I don't care if he was after us. I don't care how dangerous he was. I don't care what was in your past. We would've figured something out, Emily. We would have done anything to keep you safe. Why couldn't you accept that? Why couldn't you let us protect you for a change?"

"I'm not mad at you, Emily," he said finally. "I'm just going to miss you so much."

After sobbing for a few more moments. Reid lifted his head. It was time. He needed to say it. He needed to say goodbye.

"I love you," he said. "Goodb…" The word wouldn't leave his mouth. He wasn't ready. He couldn't do it.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Everybody understood implicitly that Derek would be the last one to see her. He was her partner. He was the last of them to see her alive, and he needed to be the last one to see her now.

Derek entered the room slowly and sat beside the woman he proudly called his friend for five years. Already he knew he would never have another partner like her. The bond of trust and understanding between them couldn't be replicated. Out in the field they hardly had to speak to each other, requiring only the occasional nod or glance. It was as if they could read each other's thoughts.

Obviously, their trust wasn't without limits. Emily kept a major secret hidden from him, and, if Derek was being honest with himself, there were a few things that he kept from her. But he trusted her with his life, and despite the frustration and confusion of the past few days, would not have hesitated to do the same again. If her death proved nothing else, it proved she would go to any lengths to protect those she cared about.

Gently, Derek reached for her hand and held it between both of his. It felt even colder than when he last gripped it in the warehouse. For the first time during the entire ordeal, Derek allowed himself to cry, albeit silently. The heavy tears fell slowly, forming a warm stream on his cheeks.

"You weren't supposed to let go, Prentiss," he finally said. "You were supposed to stay with me. You were supposed to hold on for me."

But deep down, Derek knew she had no choice. Nobody could ward off death forever, not even Emily Prentiss. No matter how hard a person fights – and Prentiss was one hell of a figher – they can only lose so much blood. No, Emily didn't leave him; she was taken from him.

He gripped her hand more tightly, and his voice began to tremble with sadness and anger.

"I swear to you, I am going to find Doyle. I swear to you that he will never, never lay so much as a finger on Declan. And I swear to you that I am going to make him pay if it means I have to hunt him for the rest of my life. I will make that sonofabitch pay for what he did to you."

Derek took a moment to calm down, to stop the flow of tears allow his breathing to return to normal. He eased his grip on her hand, but didn't yet release it.

"I love you, Emily, and I am still not letting you go."

At last, Derek left the room and returned to the team.

"Hotch, I can't take this place any longer. Let's get the hell out of here."

_So, like I said, this is the last chapter setting up the main story. The whole team will still make appearances after this, but the remaining chapters (I'm guessing there will be about 8-10 more) will center on Morgan and Reid tracking down Doyle and confronting their inabilities to say goodbye to Prentiss. As always, your feedback is valued!_


	5. Chapter 5 Morgan

_These chapters are taking a little longer to write due to the fact that I'm now pretty much writing original material rather than spring boarding from CM eps. It's definitely getting more difficult to write, so I hope it doesn't suck. _

_Anyway, things will pretty much alternate between Morgan and Reid's POV from here on out. Hope you enjoy!_

Morgan grabbed a cold bottle of beer from his refrigerator and then collapsed onto the black leather sofa in his living room. His body was heavy with exhaustion. Derek had spent most of the last three days at one of his properties in Fredericksburg, demolishing a worn-down barn he long intended to rebuild. The team was given a two-week leave upon returning from Boston, and Derek badly needed some time alone. The day after Emily's funeral, he drove to the Fredericksburg property and proceeded to take a sledgehammer to the walls, occasionally picturing Doyle's face as he did so. Derek had never done so much demolition work in such a short amount of time. Though he now felt spent physically, the work had provided an outlet for his anger.

The funeral largely seemed like a blur to him. The mass was held at a moderately large Catholic church near Emily's mother's home in Alexandria. Rossi delivered a touching eulogy peppered with a few humorous anecdotes. Derek thought Emily would have been pleased. Hundreds of people turned out. Emily may not have had many close friends or family, but she was widely respected by her peers from the FBI, CIA, and Interpol and apparently by her neighbors. Derek was surprised to see that nearly her entire apartment complex attended either the wake or the funeral. It seemed that Prentiss had been a big hit at Bunco and poker nights – a fact that astonished him until he remembered her penchant for sin-to-win weekends in Atlantic City. Even in death, Prentiss was a woman of mystery.

The parts of the funeral Derek remembered most involved carrying Emily's casket. Emily had requested cremation, but her mother held very traditional views about leaving the body intact after death. As a compromise, Ambassador Prentiss settled on a closed-casket affair as a way to avoid cremation yet recognize Emily's aversion to being put on display as a painted, empty shell. Derek remembered thinking that Emily would have been mildly annoyed, but not too much so. Derek, Rossi, Reid, and Hotch joined Emily's cousin and an old friend from her Yale days as pallbearers. Despite his grief, Derek made sure to bear himself in a proud, upright manner. They would only bury Emily once, and Derek wanted to do right by her. He stood protectively beside the casket and held Garcia's hand as the team each left a rose for Emily. It took every ounce of discipline he had to remain composed, which is why it came as such a relief to go to Fredericksburg and start pounding things into dust.

Derek supposed he should let himself rest now, something he hadn't done since before Emily went missing. He could read a book, or maybe kick back and watch some basketball. But Derek couldn't rest while that sonofabitch was still out there. So he reached in his briefcase for a file and set it on the coffee table in front of him. In it were copies of everything from the Doyle case. The actual case file was in Hotch's office in Quantico, where it would remain until all of the reports were finished. But Derek made copies as soon as the team returned from Boston. He hadn't asked permission to do so, but he suspected Hotch knew. Honestly, Derek didn't care. He was going to track down Doyle and nobody was going to stand in his way. He didn't want to fight Hotch over it, but he would if it came down to it.

Derek began poring over the file. He realized he would probably need much more information on Doyle – and, he thought reluctantly, on Prentiss – before he got too far. He would have Garcia help him start digging when they returned to the BAU. For now, he had enough to start.

He started looking at the old Interpol reports on Doyle as well as the reports from the D.C. murders. He tried to put himself in Doyle's shoes. How did he get into the States? Who were his contacts here? Even though the SWAT team had killed all of his enforcers at the warehouse, Derek suspected they represented only a few of Doyle's U.S. associates. After all, the bastard was an international weapons dealer and terrorist for decades and the IRA had quite a few American supporters. So where would he go now that he was wanted for the murder of a federal agent? Derek considered the possibility that he had managed to flee the country, but considered it unlikely. Doyle's picture had been distributed to every border agent at every port of entry in the country. Plus, the reason Doyle wanted to kill Prentiss was that he believed she killed Declan. Now that he knew Declan was alive, he would probably concentrate all of his efforts on finding him.

As he reviewed the files, Derek absentmindedly twirled an unloaded Glock in his hands. It had been Emily's service weapon. Normally, the weapons of agents killed in the line of duty have to be turned in to the Bureau. But Derek requested that the gun be reregistered to him and, surprisingly, Strauss pulled some strings to make it happen. It appeared that, deep down, even the Section Chief had a soul. Derek planned to continue using his old sidearm, but he had always made it a habit to carry a second weapon holstered to his ankle, just in case. He intended to carry Emily's weapon there from now on. He told himself it was just his own way of paying tribute to her. Deep down, he wanted to use it to get some poetic justice. He wanted Emily Prentiss' gun to put a bullet in Ian Doyle's head.

Continuing to filter through documents, Derek began to grow frustrated. By now he knew the information in the file like the back of his hand. He ran dozens of possible scenarios through his mind, dismissing each as unlikely as the next. He really should give it up for the night. He was beyond exhausted, and the beer wasn't exactly acting as a stimulant. But Derek forced himself to keep going. He had to make some sort of progress, even if it meant finding the smallest of hidden clues. Try as he might, Derek came up with nothing and his agitation increased by the second. Finally, he snapped, screaming and driving his fist into the wall.

"Careful there, Morgan. You might end up demolishing one more wall than you intended."

Derek snapped his head around to see the source of the voice.

Emily Prentiss stood in the center of his living room. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she was dressed in white slacks and a white button-up shirt, much like Derek remembered her wearing in the photos taken the day of Doyle's arrest.

Derek froze. He didn't know what to do. The sight before his eyes was impossible. After passing a moment in stunned silence, he finally managed to speak.

"This can't be," he said in a hushed voice. "I buried you three days ago. You're…"

"Dead?" she suggested.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah Emily, you're dead, you left me." Derek began to calm a bit as his reason kicked in. He has fallen asleep and was dreaming. Or maybe he was awake and hallucinating. After all, he had hardly slept during the last week. It wasn't inconceivable that he was suffering from severe exhaustion compounded by stress and grief.

"You're not hallucinating, Morgan," Emily read his mind. "And this isn't a dream."

"Then what the hell are you doing here, Emily? Because last I checked, dead people don't just show up at their friend's apartments in the middle of the night," Morgan was confused, angry, and a bit scared. He needed to figure out what was happening. He was afraid he was starting to go downright crazy.

"I'm here because you won't let me go," she said simply. There was a slight tone of pity in her voice.

"What?"

"I told you to let me go. I knew what this would do to you. Look at yourself, Morgan. I haven't even been gone a week and you're already driving yourself crazy with guilt and ignoring your health because you're so obsessed with revenge."

"So," he paused. "You are real then?"

"Not exactly," she said. "As you pointed out, you buried me three days ago. For all practical purposes, the 'real me' is in a box six feet below the ground. But I am real to you."

"You're the part of Emily I'm keeping alive because I won't let go," he caught on.

"Yeah," she smiled sadly. "Yeah, something like that. Look Derek, when I went to Boston I knew I probably wouldn't come back. But that was okay because I did it for my family. I did it for you guys. I was more than willing to give my life so that you could be safe. So you could continue to be the incredible person you are and do the amazing things you do. Not so you could destroy yourself looking for revenge."

"I'm not letting it destroy me, and I won't. I promise you that." Derek assured her. "But I also promised you that I would find Doyle and that I would make him pay. I have to do that Emily. I have to get that bastard."

"At least get some rest, Morgan. Please," she asked.

"Are you going to leave me if I do?"

"No. I am not leaving you. You won't see me all the time. You'd turn into a pretty crappy BAU agent if you spent all of your time talking to your dead partner," she teased, before adopting a more serious tone. "But I will be here when you need me. Until that day comes when you don't anymore. Until you can finally let go."

"That's never going to happen Prentiss. I won't let you go. I can't," he said faintly. "I will never stop needing you. You better be here when I wake."

As he spoke, Derek Morgan's head sank into the cushions on his couch. For the first time in a week, he fell into a restful sleep.

_I hope this is okay so far. Feel free to let me know by leaving a review!_


	6. Chapter 6  Reid

_Sorry for not updating in forever. This chapter was a little hard for me to write. It's the first time I've ever written Reid this extensively. Please R&R!_

It was late in the evening, and Spencer sat in the armchair in the small personal library he created at his house. Normally he'd have finished two, maybe three books by this point on a day off. Yet Spencer had failed to finish even half of one of his old favorites, _The Canterbury Tales. _ He simply stared at the pages, unable to absorb the words. He thought vaguely of getting in his car and driving yet again to JJ's house, where he'd spent every evening since Boston crying on JJ's shoulder and baring his confusion, his guilt, his pain. But Spencer had made himself promise that he would stay away for at least one night. Unlike the BAU, JJ wasn't given an extended period of leave and had already returned to work. Spencer knew this had to be hard on her. She missed Emily as much a the rest of them – she often cried on Spencer's shoulder as he cried on hers – yet she wasn't given as much time to grieve. Plus, JJ had a family at home, and while Will hadn't complained a bit, Reid figured he ought to let him and Henry have JJ to themselves for the night.

With the option of JJ's house off the table, Reid couldn't think of anywhere else to go. He wasn't exactly comfortable showing a lot of emotion in front of Hotch and Rossi, he barely knew Seaver, Morgan's constant talk of revenge would probably drive him crazy, and Garcia was likely to be a bigger emotional wreck than Spencer. So Reid opted to stay home and do what he did best – bury himself in books. Yet the distraction proved to be inadequate. He tried reading up on quantum physics, but his mind constantly drifted to thoughts of Emily. The same happened when he tried chemistry books, Roman history, and Aristotle. The worst was when he tried to work his way through some Russian literature. Just two weeks ago, he asked Emily to go see the Russian film _Solaris _with him. Because of her proficiency in foreign languages – of which she had far more extensive knowledge than even Reid – she was the only member of the team with whom he could share his love of foreign literature and films. She had turned down his invitation, and a particular part of their phone conversation from that night replayed over and over again in his head:

"But, thank you," she told him.

"For what?" he asked.

"For being you."

"Aww, thanks," he replied. "I don't know how to be anyone else."

"Yeah," she said. "That's what I love about you."

Her response confused him then, but it made so much sense now. So much damn sense. Why hadn't he figured it out?

His fruitless attempts to read through Dostoevsky only served as a painful reminder of that phone conversation, so he gave it up as a bad job and turned to _The Canterbury Tales_. Chaucer's masterpiece was one of his childhood favorites. His mom read it to him often when he was young. Back then it served as an escape from the chaos her schizophrenia brought into their lives. Reid hoped it would serve that purpose yet again. But his hope was in vain. The words on the pages were as indiscernible as those in all the other books. He simply couldn't focus. His mind kept reverting back to the events of the past few weeks, attempting to calculate what he could have done differently to prevent this.

"Why couldn't I figure it out?" he asked himself quietly.

"Because I wouldn't let you," Emily replied.

Reid glanced up to see her standing next to the bookshelf a few feet to his right, clad in all white with her hair drawn back. He was surprised to find that he wasn't all that astonished to see her.

"You may have an IQ of 187 Dr. Reid," she continued. "But give me some credit, I'm not a total slouch. I wasn't going to let you put things together, at least not before I left Quantico."

"I just wish you would have," Spencer replied weakly. "You were like family to me Emily. I just wish you would have trusted me like I trusted you."

She hesitated, licking her lips like he had seen her do dozens of times before.

"Come on, Reid. You know it's not that I didn't trust you. Doyle wanted me, not you. I wasn't willing to take even the slightest risk that the most important people in my life would pay for my past."

"I know," he admitted. "I know you did it all because you loved us. Rossi and JJ both told me that multiple times, seventeen times between the two of them, and I know deep down that they're right. You know, the Gospel of John says 'Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"

"Gosh Reid, don't start getting all biblical on me," she said. "That's not like you."

"Just because I don't believe every word of the bible doesn't mean there's no truth to it," he replied. "You showed the ultimate love for us Emily. I just wish you understood we'd have done the same for you."

"I did," she said. "I understood that completely. Which is why I worried so much and worked so hard so that wouldn't get that chance to."

"You don't seem all that surprised to see me," she said quietly, changing the subject.

"I'm not," he muttered in admission.

"So, I suppose you know why I'm here?"

"Because I haven't said goodbye," he muttered weakly, almost whispering. "As long as I'm unable to say goodbye to you, I can't fully accept that you're gone. My mind is keeping a part of you alive because I'm not ready to deal with the truth."

"You are the genius here," she said simply.

"Emily, am I going crazy?" he asked, betraying deep concerned?

"No Reid," she assured him. "I know you worry about that, between your mom's history and your headaches, but you're not going crazy. You'll function just fine on a day-to-day basis and you know the difference between what's real and what's not. Deep down, you know I'm not real, just a part of you. And I won't be here forever. Someday, when you're ready, I'll go."

"Don't!" Spencer said in a sudden panic. "Don't leave me!"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said gently. "Like I said, only when you're ready."

"How can I ever be ready, Emily? Every time I think of you I feel all this pain, all this guilt because I wasn't strong enough or smart enough to save you. So how on Earth am I supposed to say goodbye?" he asked defiantly. "When will the time finally come?"

"I don't know that, but it will come, and when it does, you'll know. You'll finally be able to forgive yourself. For now, at least make yourself finish that book. You'll have to go back to work someday, and the BAU doesn't have much use for a genius who can't read," she teased.

Knowing that she'd be back when he needed her gave Reid some needed peace of mind, at least for the time being. He picked up _The Canterbury Tales_ and read it cover to cover in under an hour.

_Like I said, this one was a bit tricky to write, so please give me some feedback! We'll be getting into some Doyle-hunting next!_


	7. Chapter 7 Morgan's Promise

Derek held his cup of coffee at his side as he surveyed each member the team from the break room. On the team's first day back at the BAU, it was obvious that everyone was still reeling. Derek watched Hotch through the window of the Unit Chief's office. At first glance, Hotch appeared to be acting as if the day were like any other, business as usual. He maintained his habitual upright posture while pouring over paperwork, pen scribbling furiously. Yet Derek picked up on the rapid blinking, the occasional furious rubbing of the brow, the pauses to inhale deeply. To the average person, these small actions appeared perfectly ordinary, but Derek Morgan was a trained profiler who had known Aaron Hotchner for years. He knew these small signs spoke volumes. Hotch was trying to put on a strong front for his team, but inside he was reeling.

Other members of the team didn't put nearly as much effort into containing their grief. Eventually another case would come in and they would need to put their emotions aside long enough to catch a killer, but during their first few days back from leave they were limited to paperwork and consults. After the morning meeting, during which the entire team remained silent save for Hotch who said a few words about how they all missed Prentiss but that she would not want them to stop doing their jobs, Rossi made straight for his office and shut himself in. The senior agent worked in silence and isolation throughout the morning. Seaver remained totally despondent. She sat at her desk, ostensibly studying for an upcoming exam at the Academy, but managing only to stare blankly at pages that remained unturned for minutes at a time.

Saddened as Derek was by watching Hotch, Seaver, and Rossi, the sights of Garcia and Reid tore his heart to pieces. Garcia spent most of the day in her office, but every time she came out to speak to another member of the team or get coffee from the break room she had to pass the Memorial Wall of agents killed in the line of duty. Prentiss's portrait had been mounted on the wall while the team was still on leave. Each time Garcia passed the wall, she paused to stare at the portrait for several moments, as if trying to memorize every detail of Prentiss's appearance. When Penelope finally managed to peel her attention form the portrait, her eyes bore telltale signs of redness. Derek knew this behavior wasn't healthy, but he decided he'd give her a few days before bringing it up.

Unlike Garcia, Reid didn't display many outward signs of emotion. Instead, he was engaged more intensely in his work than Derek had ever seen him. This was saying something, considering how intense the pretty boy got when trying to solve coded messages. Derek knew Reid was desperately trying to prove to himself that he was not inadequate. From his limited conversations with Reid since Emily's death – the young genius had become rather sullen and withdrawn – Derek gathered that Reid was consumed by serious guilt and beginning to doubt himself. He thought that Emily died because he wasn't smart enough or strong enough to save her.

But what saddened Derek more than Reid's demeanor and obvious self-doubt was the environment around him – namely what he was holding and where he was sitting. As he worked, Reid held a pen in one hand, and with the other he tapped a black wallet rhythmically against his desktop. The wallet held Prentiss's credentials. Just as Derek now carried her old service weapon, Reid felt the need to carry something that once belonged to Emily. Somehow he managed to get a hold of her credentials after the personnel office invalidated them. Derek wasn't exactly sure how Reid could bear the sight of the red "DECEASED" stamped across Prentiss's badge, but if carrying it made him feel better, Derek sure as hell had no room to argue.

Next to Reid sat Emily's vacant desk. After Derek moved into an office last year, Reid and Prentiss were the lone agents from the team still working in the bullpen. While not unorganized, Emily's desk was always buried in files. Now it was conspicuously bare. The Bureau had her things removed before the team returned. Derek was glad they at least had not yet given it to another agent. If he had walked into the BAU this morning and seen another agent at that desk, Derek wasn't sure he would have been able to avoid throwing the agent out of their chair for having the nerve to sit there. It was bad enough to see it empty. Reid looked terribly isolated sitting next to it.

After a last sad glance at Emily's chair, Derek topped off his cup of coffee and headed towards Garcia's lair. He still had some paperwork to finish for the day, but there was something he needed to take care of first. He knocked twice before entering.

"Hey Baby Girl," he started, before pausing abruptly at the sight of Garcia. She had been sobbing, and was clearly caught off guard. Derek noticed Emily's old clip-on ID taped onto the top corner of Garcia's main monitor screen. He reached for it.

"Derek Morgan, if you so much as touch that I will rip any future dating life you might have to shreds with a few clicks of this mouse," she said with a ferocity he did not expect.

"Penelope," he sighed. "You can't do this to yourself. You already have her cat at your house and you stare at her portrait every time you walk by. It's not healthy to have reminders hovering over you every second."

"Don't sit here and try and tell me what's healthy Derek," she replied. "Look, I know that she's gone and I have to accept that. But that doesn't mean I have to bury her away. I love her and she made me smile and I'll be damned if I just have to forget about her. Besides, I'm pretty sure going on a vendetta isn't 'healthy' either, but I know exactly that's why you're here. You want me to get all of the information I can on Doyle and you want Emily's personnel file. I already have them both right here."

"Baby girl," he allowed a slight smile as he spoke. "You really are amazing. And you're right, I have no place telling you how to deal with all of this. Just promise me one thing. Promise me that if it's too hard to deal with it alone, you'll come talk to me."

"I promise," she said.

"Thatta girl," he laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave.

"Wait, Derek," Garcia called to him.

"Yeah Baby Girl?"

"Will you make me a promise?"

"Of course," he replied gently. "Anything."

"Promise me you'll get him," she said softly, almost guiltily.

"I promise."


	8. Chapter 8  I See Her Too

_I've decided to start writing shorter chapters to try and avoid continuity issues. Ideally this will mean more frequent updates, albeit shorter ones. Anyway, hope you enjoy!_

Spencer noticed Morgan watching the team throughout the day, watching him in particular. Spencer was sure Morgan had picked up on his hyper intensity as well as Hotch's atypical breaks in concentration, Rossi's enforced solitude, and Seaver's inability to focus. Everybody had picked up on Garcia's obvious distress. What Morgan hadn't noticed was that Reid was watching _him._ He hadn't intended to do so. He thought it was best on a day like this to let everyone be and resist inter-team profiling. But Reid couldn't help noticing Morgan's odd behavior. Each member of the team was grieving in his or her own way, but something stood out about Morgan.

Unlike the other team members, Morgan didn't look at Emily's portrait when he walked by. Hotch, Rossi, and Seaver didn't stare at it for several moments like Garcia, but none of them seemed to be able to avoid pausing for a second as they passed. Morgan didn't so much as glance. Furthermore, Hotch, Seaver, and Garcia all obviously struggled to focus on their work. Although it was impossible to know for sure, Reid guessed that inside his closed office, Rossi experienced similar struggles. The overwhelming onslaught of memories and loss prevented them from concentrating.

Yet, curiously, Morgan seemed completely focused. Sure, he took a break or two, but that wasn't unusual. Otherwise he was completely engaged in whatever task he was performing at a given moment. As he did his own work, Reid tossed around theories about his colleague's unusual behavior. Morgan was obviously sad about Emily, but he didn't need to glance at her picture as he passed or interrupt his work to think about her. The only other person on the team displaying similar behavior was Reid himself…

At that last thought, something clicked in Spencer's mind. He knew why Morgan was acting so strangely, or at least he had a pretty good idea. He had to confront Morgan to find out if he was right. He began debating how best to go about doing so when an opportunity unexpectedly presented itself. As Morgan left his office to go home for the evening, Spencer noticed a handful of files tucked carefully under his arm. Reid was willing to bet every poker chip in Las Vegas that those files pertained to Doyle and Prentiss. He also suspected that Morgan would make a pit stop on the way home. Reid hurriedly finished his last report for the day, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and hurried off to where he knew Morgan was headed…

Sure enough, when Spencer reached the cemetery Morgan was already there. He placed a single rose on the ground where Emily lay and then stood in stoic silence, staring at her headstone. As he approached Morgan, Reid himself snatched a glance at the stone.

Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity. Yes, those words certainly described Emily, Reid thought, but they only scratched the surface. Reid immediately came up with a few more that could be added. Brilliance. Compassion. Humility. Humor. Snarkiness.

The sound of Reid's footsteps caused Morgan to turn.

"Reid?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, actually," Spencer replied. "I knew I'd find you here."

"Yeah? How'd you know that?" the older agent asked.

"Because you need to come here to remind yourself that she's gone. You know it's true, but you have to come back here to be certain."

A look of shock crossed Morgan's face. Reid had caught him completely off guard.

"How did you know," Morgan asked yet again.

"Because I see her too."

The look of shock previously written on Morgan's face paled in comparison to the expression he now wore.

"You do?" he finally managed to choke out.

"Yeah. I saw her for the first time five nights after the funeral. It was the first night I didn't go to JJ's house. I was trying to read through some book and I couldn't concentrate. And then I looked up and she was there. I've seen her three times since then. I even talked to her for an hour last night, about going back to work without her. I was afraid I was having a psychotic break, but then I saw the way you were acting today. How you didn't look at her picture or pause to think about her. And I knew. I knew it's because you still see her."

"Why do you see her?" Morgan asked.

"Because I haven't said goodbye," Reid replied. "I meant to say goodbye to her that night at the hospital, but I couldn't do it. I still can't. Because part of me believes I'm the reason she's gone," he paused. "Why do you see her?"

Morgan sighed heavily before answering. He hadn't told anyone the full truth about what happened in Boston. Not even Hotch knew.

"That night, when I found her in the warehouse, she spoke to me. She was so weak, Reid, and she was bleeding so badly. She knew she was going to die, so she told me to let her go. I told her I wouldn't. I told her she had to hold on for me. And even now, I still won't let her go. I see her almost every night, and it's torture, Reid. I want her to stay with me. I want to talk to her. But at the same time I know she's just a part of my mind. The real Emily is gone, and I can never have her back. What I'm holding onto is a lie, but I can't deal with the truth."

"And you think getting Doyle is what will enable you to finally let her go," Reid deduced.

"I don't know," Derek admitted. "I hope so. Either way, it doesn't matter. That sick bastard tortured Prentiss, Reid. He beat her. He killed her. He has to pay. And I'm going to make sure he does."

"I want to help you," Reid said.

Derek was surprised. He'd never pegged Reid as the vendetta type. But then again, Reid had never lost a friend quite like this before. After thinking for a moment, Derek nodded.

"Alright, but we can't jump into this too hastily. If it ends up becoming our main focus and affects our work at the BAU, Hotch will shut us down."

"What do you want to do then?" Reid asked.

"We'll get started this weekend. Saturday morning. My house," Morgan replied.

"Alright, I'll be there."

The two agents lingered for a few moments at the grave of their fallen friend and then departed in silence.

_So the genius and the warrior have teamed up! Doyle doesn't stand a chance, right? Stay tuned, and be sure to leave a review!_


	9. Chapter 9 Necessary Information

_I haven't been able to update as quickly as I would have liked, but hopefully this long chapter makes up for it! It's a bit dialogue heavy, but we'll get into some serious gun-slinging action within the next couple of chapters._

Derek angrily threw down the file and slammed his fist down on the coffee table.

"Damn it!" he yelled.

"Morgan, calm down," Spencer said with a hint of concern. "Doyle journeyed from North Korea to the States without being caught even though half the agencies in Europe were looking for him. We won't find him overnight."

"Don't tell me to calm down Reid!" Morgan snapped. "We have to catch this bastard!"

A hurt look crossed the younger agent's faced.

"Reid, I'm sorry," Morgan sighed. "It's just that, I have to get him Reid. I promised her I would catch him."

It was Sunday night. Morgan and Reid had spent almost the entire weekend in Morgan's apartment going through all of the files Garcia could find in the FBI database pertaining to Doyle. They yielded nothing. Other than a few minor details about Doyle's contacts in Boston, the Derek and Spencer already knew all of the information contained in the files. The information about the Boston contacts would do little good. Most of Doyle's known affiliates were killed in the raid on the warehouse and the agents at the FBI's Boston branch were cracking down on the city's Irish mob. They had already arrested several operatives and were watching the rest like hawks. The agents in Boston may not have worked with Emily, but they were pissed off that an agent was murdered in their town. Morgan had kept in contact with one of agents at the branch office and was satisfied with their efforts. If Doyle so much as set foot in Boston, Derek was sure the FBI guys up there would find out.

Prentiss's personnel file wasn't of much help either. Derek and Spencer planned to use Emily's background information to profile her. Both Morgan and Reid suspected that Emily might know where Doyle would go if his contacts in Boston were severed. They also wanted to know where she hid Declan so they could make sure Doyle wouldn't get to him. While neither of them was enthusiastic about having to profile their friend again, they thought that building a profile of Emily based on her history might help provide some answers.

But most of the information in Prentiss's FBI file was a lie. While the information pertaining to her BAU career was accurate, the paperwork pertaining to her career before joining the BAU had been falsified. According to the file, Prentiss worked for 10 years as a field office agent in the Midwest before being granted a transfer to Quantico. This was the story Prentiss told the team when she joined the BAU. But Prentiss had been at the BAU just short of six years and Interpol arrested Doyle seven years ago. She couldn't have been in the FBI for any more than a year before she joined the team.

"Morgan, there's nothing we can do with what we have here. Most of this contains information we either already know or that we know to be false. We need to change our approach," Reid said.

"No, we keep the same approach, we just need better information." Morgan said. "We need the CIA files."

"There's no way they're going to give us those," Reid said resignedly. "JJ already tried. After Emily died JJ tried to get the rest of her CIA history from her contact at Langley – the guy who gave us the limited background on Emily and JTF-12 after Emily went missing. JJ wanted to get more information so she could help us catch Doyle. The CIA won't bite. Even though Emily's gone, the operation is still considered sensitive information."

"I'm not surprised," Morgan scoffed. "Those CIA guys don't like to share much. But I think I might know a way around them. Go home and get some rest and let me see what I can do."

"What are you planning?" Reid asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry about it. It's a long shot. Just let me check some stuff out. If it works, I'll let you know."

"Morgan, please don't keep things from me," Reid begged. "Emily kept things from us and it got her killed."

"Look Reid, it's not that I don't trust you. It's just that what I plan on isn't exactly within the rules. I just don't want to implicate you before I know whether or not it will work. I know you're hurt that Prentiss didn't tell you the truth so now you're hypersensitive about secret-keeping, but please trust me on this. I'll tell you soon enough."

"Do you promise?" Reid asked.

"Yes, I promise," Morgan replied. "Now go home. I'll see you at the office tomorrow."

Reid gave a small smile, collected his things, and made to leave. He opened Morgan's front door and paused.

"Morgan, please don't do anything reckless," he said.

"Don't worry about it pretty boy," Morgan replied with a reassuring smile. "I'll be carful."

….

The next morning at the BAU, Morgan fixed himself a cup of coffee and organized his fresh stack of consult requests before making his way to Garcia's office.

"Good morning Baby Girl," he said. "How're you doing?"

"A little better," she said. "I spent most of Saturday watching sad movies and crying, but Kevin came over yesterday and we did lunch and went to a graphic novel convention. I actually had a really good time. I felt a little guilty after I came home, though. It just feels so wrong to go on dates and have fun when Em hasn't even been gone a month."

"Penelope, you can't think like that," Derek interjected. "You know Prentiss would want you to be happy. Just because you're going on with life doesn't mean you don't still love her and miss her every day. Otherwise you wouldn't have her picture taped to your screen. Stop beating yourself up."

"Says the guy who I am sure spent every second of this weekend trying to find Doyle," Garcia scoffed playfully. "Any clues?"

"No. There wasn't a whole lot of information about Doyle that we didn't already know, and half of the information in Emily's file is falsified."

"What are you going to do?" Garcia asked.

"Well, that's where you come in, Baby Girl. I'm going to need some more information. Can you track down Clyde Easter? I want to talk to him again. He'll be able to give me some more information about Doyle's history and contacts."

"Would he tell you though?" Garcia asked. "Isn't he under oath not to disclose all of that stuff."

"Technically yes, but I have a feeling he'll help me if I ask," Morgan replied. "I think he really cared about Emily. He couldn't go to her funeral because it wasn't safe for him. He's the only surviving member of the JTF-12 team that took down Doyle. But he was visibly upset when he found out Prentiss didn't make it. In fact, my guess is that wherever he is, he's probably trying to find Doyle too. Can you find him for me?"

"Probably," Garcia replied. "It might take a little bit, though. I don't have any contact information for him, but I have a list of his aliases. He's probably careful about leaving a trace, but my wonder powers might be good enough to track him down."

"I don't doubt it," Morgan chuckled. "But I need you to do one more thing for me," Morgan hesitated.

"What Derek? What is it?"

"I need to you hack into the CIA database and get Emily's real personnel information."

Garcia met the request with stunned silence.

"Derek, are you kidding me? I can't hack into the CIA database. Do you realize what would happen if I got caught?"

"Penelope, I need that information," Derek replied sternly.

"Derek, you're not just asking me to hack some unsub's computer or some run-of-the-mill HR files at a random business. This is the CIA here. Forget about losing my job, I could go to jail if I get caught. And I probably would get caught. This is top-secret government information here. They invest a lot in cybersercurity for this stuff."

"You hacked the FBI database from your home computer. Twice," he reminded her.

"Yeah, and the first time I got caught. That's how I got this job. The second time I was hacking my own system. I knew it like the back of my hand. Derek, I'm sorry, but this would be insane. I can't do this."

Derek grew increasingly angry.

"I know it's a risk Garcia, but I believe you can do it. And we have to get Doyle. I have to get him!"

"Look, I want to help you, I really do," Garcia said. "But listen to yourself Derek. It's like it's not even about Em anymore, it's all about you! You know, you're the one who keeps talking to me about what Emily would want. Well, I know Emily wouldn't want this! She wouldn't want you to become so obsessed with revenge that you don't even act like yourself anymore."

The beeping of Morgan and Garcia's phones interrupted Garcia's diatribe.

"You have a case. Minneapolis." she snapped. "So go get in that conference room and be the Derek Morgan that know, that Em knew."

"Alright, but I'm not done talking about this," Morgan replied. "I know what I'm asking of you isn't easy, but I believe you can do it. Doyle is still out there, Penelope, and he's not just some unsub. He murdered Emily. Just think about that."

…

Morgan sat alone on the jet. The return flight from Minneapolis couldn't end soon enough. The case itself had gone fairly well, at least as far as serial murder cases went. The team managed to put aside their grief and caught the unsub relatively quickly. It was Reid who figured out the unsub had likely been abused by his mother and was killing surrogates who reminded him of her. From there, the team relied on Garcia and a few key pieces of evidence left at the crime scene to identify the killer as Blake Cohen, a 27-year-old art teacher.

The arrest was when things got slightly out of control. Hotch led officers to Cohen's front door. When Cohen attempted to flee out the back, he ran into a waiting Morgan. Morgan could have easily overpowered and cuffed Cohen. Instead, he knocked Cohen to the ground and began punching mercilessly. He didn't stop until Hotch and Rossi physically separated him from the bloodied Cohen. The Minneapolis Police Department bought Morgan's explanation that Cohen had attempted to attack him, but Derek knew that Hotch saw through the lie. As the plane coasted over Indiana, Hotch made his was towards Morgan, taking a seat just across from his brooding agent.

"I know, Hotch, I know," Morgan said. "I was out of control. I'm sorry."

"Morgan, you could have jeopardized the case," Hotch replied sternly. "Cohen was sent to the hospital. Police brutality is bad enough when committed by local agencies. We cannot tolerate it in the BAU."

"I know man, I know," Morgan said. "But the case will be fine. The police accepted myself defense claim."

"You're lucky they did," Hotch countered. "A man like Cohen was too afraid of 120-pound women to confront them directly. He had to knock them out from behind before taking them. There's no way he would stand up to an armed and physically-imposing federal agent."

"It won't happen again, I promise," Morgan told him. "I know there's going to have to be an official reprimand for this, so just get it over with when we get back."

"There won't be a reprimand this time," the Unit Chief said. "I know you're still hurting over Emily. All of us are. Morgan, just because I don't show it doesn't mean I'm not thinking about her. But we have to remain professional in the field or everything we do will be at risk. I know you know that. If you need some time off or some counseling, let me know. But as long as you are in the field you have to keep control of yourself."

"No. No I don't need any time off. And I sure as hell am not going to spend time talking about Emily to some stranger. I'll be fine."

"Alright," Hotch replied, apparently satisfied. "I'll leave you alone."

"Hotch?"

"Yes, Morgan?"

"Thanks man."

"Of course."

…

It was early Saturday morning by the time the plane landed in Quantico. Derek intended to go to Penelope's office and apologize for the way he behaved on Monday, but it appeared Garcia had gone home for the weekend. She usually waited for the team to get back before she left the office after a case, often greeting them with cupcakes or some other assortment of goodies. Derek suspected she was avoiding him. She had been unusually curt during their phone calls throughout the case, saying little more than was necessary.

Derek resolved to call Garcia in the morning and headed home himself. Upon entering his apartment, he threw his bag and keys on the coffee table and headed to his bedroom to change into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He sat on the edge of his bed, running his hand over his head and wandering what he was going to tell Garcia and how he and Reid should proceed without the CIA information. He wasn't going to push Garcia to hack the files, but he wasn't about to give up on Doyle either. He'd never give up until he found him.

Derek wasn't surprised to see a familiar figure standing in his doorway. He gave a soft chuckle.

"I had a feeling you might show up tonight, Prentiss," he said.

"I told you I'd be here when you need me," she said simply.

"Yeah, well I need you now," he said. "I screwed up Prentiss. I screwed up big time."

"You just let your emotions get the best of you," she said. "You have to stop beating yourself up, Morgan. That goes for what happened to me too. You have to stop feeling guilty about what happened to me. It's the guilt and anger that's causing you to act out like this. I know you don't want to, but you have to let it go."

"You say that like it's so easy," he scoffed. "It's not just any old thing that happened to you. You died, Prentiss. You died in my arms."

"Technically I died on an operating table," she corrected him, smiling wryly.

"You always were such a smartass," he smirked. "Seriously, though, Emily. I still see your face every night when I sleep. I still feel your hand growing cold in mine. Every night I beg in vain for you to stay with me and you don't. As far as I'm concerned, I lost you right in front of me."

"Look Derek," she said softly. "You know deep down that I tried my hardest to stay with you. I didn't want to die, but I was ready to. I was ready to because I knew I'd rather die to see anything happen to my family. But I died to protect the Derek Morgan I knew, not the Derek Morgan who gets so wrapped up in plans for vengeance that he jeopardizes cases and tries to bully his best friend into breaking the law. Be the Derek Morgan I knew."

"I will, I promise," he said. "But I'm still not giving up on Doyle. I can't Emily, I just can't."

"I know."

…

At nearly 4 a.m., Derek managed to drift off into a restful sleep. He was awoken late the next morning by the ringing of his cell phone. Bleary-eyed, he squinted at the screen and saw that it was Garcia. He immediately grew alert and answered the call.

"Hey Baby Girl," he said. "I missed you last night. I owe you an apology for the way I acted on Monday. I was wrong. I should never ask you to…"

"Derek Morgan," she cut him off, "will you just shut up and listen to me? I have your information. The CIA systems are surprisingly primitive once you get past the first few layers. It gives me the willies to think what might happen if the terrorists ever get hold of a glamorous techie goddess such as myself."

"Penelope," Morgan said stunned. "You really didn't have to do that. I was out of line the other day."

"Oh I know you were," she said. "I didn't do this for you. Believe it or not, I want Doyle almost as bad as you do. I know what he did to my Em. You better make good use of this stuff and get him Derek."

"I will Baby Girl. I'll get him."

"I'll bring the files over to your place this afternoon. Don't say I've never done anything for you."

"Oh, perish the thought," he laughed. "I love you baby girl."

"I know," she joked. "See you soon."

After hanging up on Garcia, Morgan immediately called Reid.

"Hey Morgan, what's going on?" the genius asked.

"What are you up to right now," Derek responded.

"Nothing much, just going through the chess problems in the newspaper."

"You might want to come over here if you can," Morgan replied. "I've got the CIA files. We might just have something."

"I'm on my way."

_Might this just be the breakthrough our BAU heroes need? Stay tuned! Also, leave a review if you get a chance._


	10. Chapter 10  Clyde

Spencer paced back and forth as he waited for Morgan to answer the door. He wasn't sure how Morgan managed to obtain Emily's CIA files, but he hoped they would contain some badly needed clues. A sudden noise from behind caught Reid's attention. He was surprised to see Garcia climbing the stairs to Morgan's floor, dragging a rather heavy file box at her side.

"Garcia, what are you doing here?" Reid inquired.

"I…I," she hesitated, "I just have a few things for Derek. You know, uh, just some basic stuff. Besides, do I need permission to visit my statuesque god?"

Spencer immediately saw through the lie.

"Those are the CIA files, aren't they?"

"How do you know about those?" Garcia asked. "Has Derek got you sucked up in this crazy vendetta thing with him?"

"No, I chose to help him," Reid replied. "But I didn't know he was using you to get the CIA information."

At that moment, Morgan answered the door.

"Hey man, are you crazy?" Reid asked. "You had Garcia hack the CIA computer? Do you realize how risky that was?"

"Look Reid, just come in, we can discuss this inside. You too Baby Girl," Morgan answered.

"Reid, I know it was crazy. I shouldn't have asked her to do this," Morgan said after his friends entered the apartment. "But we needed the information fast and Baby Girl came through. So let's just start looking through this stuff."

Reid nodded and took a seat around the coffee table with Morgan and Garcia.

"Okay," Garcia said. "I wasn't exactly sure what you needed, so I dug through both the FBI and CIA databases and got everything on Em from her college transcripts through the, um, the autopsy report. There should be reports on here from every case she worked for the Agency and the Bureau. I had to get everything as fast as possible and get out of the system, so they're not very organized. You might have to dig through to find what you need."

"Well, at the very least this should make for some very interesting reading," Morgan sighed, looking at the mass of files Garcia placed in front of them.

"Yeah, I just hope it yields something useful," Reid commented.

Each of the three agents grabbed a file and began reading. Reid filtered through the papers much faster than the others, but initially found little use in what he read. Most of the information pertained to consults for the BAU and the CIA, although there were a few mildly interesting reports about Emily's involvement in busting a Ukrainian weapons ring. Occasionally he encountered notes on cases familiar to him. He smiled wryly at her report on the case they worked involving murders at construction sites in Houston shortly after Emily joined the team. They worked that case during the height of Reid's Dilaudid use and he had been pretty rude to her. Reid had always been glad of Emily's willingness to put that behind them.

"Oh jeezo!" The exclamation from Garcia interrupted Reid's thought process.

"What is it?" Reid asked.

"Em's medical file," Garcia replied.

"That ougtha be good," Morgan said. "What? A couple of concussions. One from taking a two by four to the head and another from that car accident last year. She had a lot of cuts from that too. And then there was that Cyrus freak. I'm pretty sure he broke a couple of her ribs but she'd never admit it to me."

"That would be two broken ribs and a slight crack in the cheekbone," Garcia read.

Reid's gaze dropped to the ground at the last comment. He still hadn't forgiven himself for letting her take the beating for him.

"Oh come on Reid, you have to at least let that one go," Derek said, noticing the guilty look on the younger agent's face. "Emily told me on the plane ride home that Cyrus was about ready to blow your brains out."

"He wouldn't have killed me," Reid said.

"Well, that was a risk Prentiss wasn't willing to take, and I wouldn't have taken it either. Stop blaming yourself," Morgan replied. "It's bad enough that you blame yourself for Doyle."

"Yeah, you're right," Reid admitted. "I just always felt bad about that one."

"Fret not, Boy Wonder," Garcia interrupted. "It appears our E was destined to be a perpetual visitor to the emergency room. Before joining the BAU she apparently took a bullet to the thigh on a mission in Croatia and one to the foot in the Ukraine. I always wondered why she didn't like wearing sandals. Also, she appears to have scored a very nasty arm fracture from falling out of a tree when she was eight."

"They should have known back then just to wrap her in bubble wrap," Morgan chuckled.

Reid smiled weakly, still thinking guiltily back to the Cyrus case, and reached for another file folder.

"Hey, here's her work history. The real one," Reid said.

"What's in it?" Morgan asked, his interest clearly piqued.

"Let's see. She graduated summa cum laude from Yale in 1992 with majors in psychology and romance languages. Then she moved to D.C. and got a masters in psychology at Georgetown in 1994. She did a one-year internship at the Defense Department and was recruited to the CIA in 1996. It looks like she did consultations on interrogations of international organized crime suspects until 1999 when she started training for undercover work. She took a few minor undercover missions dealing with organized crime in France and Italy before the CIA loaned her to Interpol for the JTF-12 assignment after 9/11. She worked several consultations throughout Europe on terrorist profiles a couple of weapons ring busts in Ukraine and the Balkans before being sent on a long-term undercover assignment as Belgian-American dual citizen and weapons dealer Lauren Reynolds on the Doyle case in 2004. Doyle was arrested in 2005. After the arrest, Interpol disbanded JTF-12 and she returned to Langley where she reassumed her real identity and received a citation for bravery on the Doyle mission. Soon after, she requested a transfer out of the CIA and was given her pick of assignments. She joined the FBI in late 2005 and went through the basic Bureau training courses with flying colors. The CIA and FBI worked together to draft a fake FBI work history and made sure she was assigned to the BAU in 2006."

"Wow," Garcia exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, but as interesting as all of that is it doesn't really help us all that much," Morgan pointed out. "We need the actual Doyle file."

Reid noticed an unusually thick folder lying scattered amongst the others. As he opened the front flap, the hated face of Ian Doyle stared back at him.

"Morgan, I've got it!" Reid began reading the case summary file as quickly as possible. He saw that, in order to protect Emily's cover, "Lauren" was arrested along with Doyle at his Tuscan villa by Italian authorities working with Interpol. Clyde Easter covertly withdrew Emily from Italian prison two days later while Tsia Mosley and Jeremy Wolfe worked with Italian authorities to stage a routine prisoner transfer that ended in a car accident and the death of Lauren Reynolds. Clyde and Sean McCallister then accompanied Emily back to the United States.

After finishing reading the case summary, Reid began searching the rest of the file. Among the remaining papers, he found hundreds of pages covered in neat handwriting.

"Guys, I think I've found her case notes."

"That's great Reid, what do they say?" Morgan replied.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"She didn't write them in English. I'm pretty sure they're in Dutch. I can read French, Russian, Italian, and some Latin, but not Dutch."

Morgan glanced at the papers Reid held. He recognized Emily's tidy handwriting, but sure enough, the words they formed were incomprehensible to him.

"She knew Dutch too? Damnit Prentiss, you just don't make anything easy, do you?" Morgan said aloud. "Hey Garcia."

"Yes?" Penelope answered.

"Did you ever find Clyde Easter?"

"Of course I did love," she replied. "He's still in North America. He was in Toronto as of last night. I have the contact information for the alias he's currently using."

"Let me see it. I have a feeling we're going to need his help."

…

Reid and Garcia watched silently as Derek dialed the number Garcia provided. Derek heard the phone on the other end ring three times before a man with a vaguely familiar voice with a British accent answered.

"Hello," the man said.

"Clyde Easter?" Morgan asked.

"No," the man said coolly. "I'm terribly sorry but you must have the wrong number. My name is Roger Pearson."

"Yeah, I know that's what you're supposed to say Clyde," Derek responded. "But I know it's you. This is Derek Morgan from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We met in Boston."

"You were a colleague of Emily's," Easter recalled.

"Yeah. She was my friend."

"How did you find me?" Easter asked.

"Let's just say I know some good people," Derek responded, giving Garcia a slight smile. "But that's not what is important right now. The important thing is that I'm looking for Ian Doyle, and if my profiling skills are half as good as I'd like to think they are, you are too. I've found Prentiss's notes from the Doyle case and I'm hoping there's something in there that might give me a clue to where he is now. The problem is, they're written in Dutch so I can't read them. But I'm willing to bet that you know what they say."

"Where did you get those?" Easter asked sharply. "At the end of the case, we were to turn everything we had over to Interpol. Em shouldn't have had any of those notes anymore."

"She didn't," Morgan replied. "Again, I know somebody."

"Even if you translate them, they won't help you. They're written in double code. There is a code in the Dutch, which has to be decoded before it is translated into English. The English message is another code that has to be solved before the true meaning of the note can be deciphered."

"Do you know the codes?" Morgan asked.

"Of course I do," Easter replied. "Em and I devised them. She sent those notes to me. They contain all of the information she obtained about Doyle. She wrote them in Dutch because Doyle couldn't speak Dutch but Em and I did. We used the code just in case Doyle ever found her notes and had them translated. After Doyle was arrested and we evacuated Em from Italy we turned the notes over to Interpol and the CIA."

"I need to know what they say," Morgan said. "Will you help me?"

Easter hesitated before speaking up.

"On one condition," he stated.

"And that is?"

"I need you to understand something," Easter continued. "I'm not a bad profiler myself, I could tell when I met you that you were upset about Em's deception. You need to understand that the Em you knew was the real Emily Prentiss. She was the same Emily Prentiss I knew. She was smart, tough, kind, funny, selfless. I can promise you that anything she did that you might find unsavory she did to save lives. I can also promise you that she cared very much about you and the rest of your team. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," Morgan said firmly. "Yes I do."

"Alright, I'll make contact with you tomorrow and we will make arrangements to meet. Is anybody else working with you on this?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust them?"

"With my life," Morgan replied without hesitation.

"Alright, then I'll see you soon," Easter hung up.

"What's going on?" Reid asked Morgan.

"Easter is on board."

…

Three days later, Morgan and Reid left the BAU office at 5 p.m. and drove to Baltimore to meet Easter at a crowded corner bar. Upon reaching the bar's location, they drove twice around the block before Morgan received a call on his cell phone from an unknown number.

"It's me," Morgan heard Easter say on the other end.

"I'm satisfied you haven't been followed. Come inside and join me at the table in the far right corner."

Morgan found a parking spot and exited the car with Reid. He had an uneasy feeling and kept one hand firmly on the gun in his jacket pocket as they crossed the street and entered the bar. Once inside, Reid immediately spotted Easter seated in the corner and nodded to Morgan.

"Dr. Reid, Agent Morgan, we meet again," Easter said as he briefly shook their hands. "Do you have the notes?"

"Right here," Reid said, producing a folder from his jacket. "Shouldn't we go somewhere more discreet?"

"Absolutely not," Easter replied. "The more people around the less likely they are to pay attention to us. Now let me take a look at these. Also, if you two would kindly order yourselves some drinks, you'll look less conspicuous."

Morgan ordered a beer, Reid a soda. As they ordered, Easter slipped on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and began reading furtively through Emily's notes.

"What precisely are you looking for?" Easter asked the agents.

"We need to know if she recorded any information about Doyle's contacts in the States outside of Boston," Reid answered. "His Boston contacts are either in prison or under surveillance, but we think he's still in the country looking for his son. If he has contacts outside of Boston he might be with them."

"Well, thankfully I doubt he'll ever find his son," Easter commented. "Em loved kids. I'm sure she took extraordinary measures to cover his tracks."

"Well, that didn't stop Doyle from finding her," Morgan scoffed.

"That's only because that bastard Jeremy sold us out," Clyde responded stiffly. "And I didn't catch on until it was too late. Wait, I think I might have something here."

"What is it?" Reid asked.

"Em has some background information here about Doyle's first forays into America. His main contacts were in Boston, but it looks like the first couple times he came to the U.S. he stayed with members of the Westies gang in the Hells Kitchen neighborhood of New York."

"Reversion," Reid muttered.

"What"" Morgan asked.

"Reversion," Reid repeated. "When we're faced with a stressful or traumatic situation, instead of finding new ways to deal with it we usually revert to older habits because it's what makes us most comfortable. For instance, a few weeks ago I was having trouble focusing after Emily's death so I started reading the Canterbury Tales because it was my favorite book from childhood. Doyle has to be under stress right now, he's being hunted by federal and international agencies on a murder charge and his primary contacts are gone. If he's reverting to earlier habits, he might have gone back to Hell's Kitchen to establish contacts."

"Seems plausible," Easter admitted.

"It's the best idea we've had so far," Morgan said. "Looks like we need to plan a trip to New York."

"I'm coming with you," Easter insisted. "Years before you even met Em I promised I'd keep her safe from Doyle. It's too late for that, but I will make sure that bastard is taken down. I owe her that. Plus, the sooner he's eliminated as a threat the sooner I can stop living my own life on the run."

"Alright," Morgan said. "Here's what we're going to do. Reid, you are going to call Hotch tonight, tell him you are upset about Prentiss and you need a few days away. I think he'll buy it. I'm going to just take a few personal days without explanation, and he'll think I'm upset but too proud to admit it. Tonight I'll make contact with some acquaintances at the field office in New York and see if they can get us eyes on Hell's Kitchen. We rendezvous here at noon tomorrow and head up there together."

"Alright," Easter agreed. Reid nodded.

"Be sure to bring some firepower boys," Morgan said, intensity burning in his eyes. "We're going to take down this sonofabitch."


	11. Chapter 11 Northbound

_This is one of two chapters posted simultaneously. They were originally together as one long chapter, but I decided to break them up. I've added a lot over the last few days because I just went on a writing spree, so make sure you catch all of the new chapters. Enjoy!_

It was well past midnight by the time Spencer arrived home. After a full day at the BAU and the meeting in Baltimore, he was exhausted and ready for sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day even if they didn't find Doyle. But first he needed to call Hotch. Spencer felt slightly guilty about not including the rest of the team in on the team. After all, it seemed hypocritical of him considering he had been so upset with Emily for not telling the rest of the team about Doyle. But he and Morgan had no proof that Doyle was in Hell's Kitchen, only a guess. There was no way Hotch would be allowed to authorize a mission even if he wanted to, and Hotch played everything by the book. Yet somehow, Spencer instinctually _knew _that Doyle was in New York, and he was not about to let the opportunity to prove it slip away.

Besides, Spencer told himself, this wasn't the same as what Emily did. Emily left alone to take on a squad of 15 men armed with semi-automatic weapons. Whether she had admitted it to herself or not, what she did was a suicide mission. Reid would not only be accompanied by Morgan and Easter but most likely a handful of New York field office agents as well. What he and Morgan planned was risky, but not suicide. With that thought, Reid picked up his phone and called Hotch.

"Hotchner," he heard the Unit Chief answer. Hotch sounded tired but alert. Reid guessed he had been asleep.

"Hey, Hotch, it's me. I'm really sorry for calling so late."

"It's fine Reid. What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Reid responded. "It's just, I was wondering if I could take a day or two off to clear my head. I'm still having a hard time with Emily being gone. It's like half the time I look up from my work, I still expect her to be sitting next to me at her desk. And now every time I look at a victim, I see her face."

Reid had to pause to blink back a few stray tears. He may have been lying about needing time off, but the rest of his comment was true.

"Of course Reid. Take whatever time you need. Do you need to see somebody?"

"No, at least not now. I think I just need to figure some things out on my own," Reid said.

"Okay. Take care of yourself, and remember I'm always here if you just need to talk. I understand what you're going though. We all miss her Reid."

"Thanks Hotch. I'll be in touch."

"Anytime. Good night Reid."

"Goodnight."

Spencer sighed as he placed the phone on his kitchen table. He wasn't sure if he had just done the right thing.

"Reid, why are you doing this?"

Reid glanced up to see Prentiss standing in the doorway between his kitchen and his living room.

"Because this is the only way to get Doyle, Emily. I have no choice," Reid answered.

"That sounds like an answer Morgan would give me. That's not like you. Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth," Reid insisted. "I'm not like Morgan. I don't want to get Doyle just for the sake of getting him. I hate him for what he did to you, but I know finding him won't bring you back or make this hurt go away. But I need to prove to myself that I'm smart enough and strong enough to find him and stop him. That's the only way I'll ever stop believing that it's my fault that you're gone. That's the only way I'll ever be able to finally say goodbye."

"I get that Reid, I do. But I don't know if you realize how dangerous this is for you and anybody else who goes after him. If he gets the chance he will not hesitate to kill you."

"I know that. I won't let him have the chance. I promise."

"You better keep that promise, Reid. Don't you dare get hurt on my account."

…

Derek turned off his laptop and folded it shut. He had just logged into the FBI personnel system and put in for the next two days off. He probably should have called Hotch, but he didn't really feel like talking to him at the moment. Plus, the fact that he didn't call might help build what he hoped would be Hotch's suspicion that he just needed to take time off to grieve and was too proud to discuss it.

Morgan began gathering things for the next day. On his table, he placed both his and Emily's service weapons and a copy of all the information he found on the Irish gangs in Hell's Kitchen. He might have found more if he asked Garcia to help him, but he didn't want her to know where he was going tomorrow. The less the rest of the team knew, the better.

"Why are you so adamant about keeping this a secret from the rest of the team?" Emily asked.

Derek looked up at his fallen friend and shook his head, smirking slightly.

"Aren't you one to talk Prentiss? You spent the entire last month of your life keeping secrets from us."

"That doesn't answer my question," she persisted.

"Because Hotch plays by the rules and as badly as I'm sure he would like to get Doyle, there's not enough evidence to justify sending the team to New York when I'm sure there are a dozen serial killers out running around somewhere."

"That does answer my question," Prentiss admitted. "But I suspect not truthfully."

"You want the truth?" Morgan asked.

"I would like to hear it from you, yes." she said.

"Okay Prentiss, the truth is this," Morgan said. "If Hotch somehow was convinced to go along with this, he would be in charge of the operation. Like I said, Hotch plays by the rules, and the rules say that if we find Doyle we arrest him and charge him with your murder."

"And that's not what you plan on doing, is it?"

"No, Prentiss, it's not. I'm going to kill him."

"No, Morgan," Prentiss pleaded. "No, you can't. You promised me you wouldn't let him destroy the Derek Morgan I knew. The Morgan I knew, the Morgan who called himself my friend and my partner didn't kill people in cold blood. Maybe he'd rough them up a little bit, but he wasn't a killer. That's not the Morgan I knew."

"Yeah, well the Morgan you knew didn't watch his one of his best friends die!" he snapped defensively.

"You also saw your father die in front of you. That didn't turn you into a killer," she pointed out.

"I was a kid, Emily," Morgan replied. "If I could find the man who did it I would probably kill him too."

"So where are you going to draw the line then?" she asked. "You say you'd kill the man who murdered your father. That's understandable. But then you want to kill the man who killed me. How much farther is it to wanting to kill every unsub you find? You're better than that, Morgan. You're one of the good guys."

"Sometimes being one of the good guys sucks," he said.

"That it does," she agreed. "But it's still the right thing. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. I'm just not sure how much I care anymore."

…

The following afternoon, Reid and Morgan met Clyde in Baltimore as planned and the trio departed for the New York field office. Morgan and Reid road together in Morgan's personal car while Clyde drove alone in an SUV with Pennsylvania tags. Morgan wasn't sure where he got the SUV, and he knew better than to ask.

"Considering the traffic, we should be there between 5 and 5:30," Reid told Morgan.

"Yeah, I told my buddy at the New York office to expect us around 5," Morgan said. "I just hope this isn't a wild goose chase."

"It's not," Reid said. "I just know it."

Morgan and Reid completed the journey in silence. At 5:07 p.m., they reached the New York field office with Clyde Easter just behind them.

…

Around 5 p.m., Hotch saw Rossi leave his office and prepare to head home. It had been another day of heavy paperwork. The team hadn't been called out on another case since Minneapolis. Hotch guessed that the Bureau was trying to see to it that their first weeks back were as simple as possible. He was grateful for that, but knew it couldn't last long. With the team already down one agent, he couldn't afford for two other agents to spend too much time away, as badly as they may need it. He needed to help them deal with what was bothering them, and decided he would turn to the senior profiler for help.

"Dave," he called.

"Yeah Aaron."

"Have you heard from either Reid or Morgan today."

"No, I assumed you know where they are."

"They both just asked for some time off, but I'm surprised neither of them has checked in to let us know they're okay. I think they both know I'd worry about them."

"It is a bit strange," Dave agreed.

"I'm going to ask Garcia if she's had word."

"I'll join you," Dave said, slightly intrigued.

The two agents both entered Garcia's office as she was shutting down her systems for the night.

"My lieges, how may I be of assistance?" the technical analyst inquired.

"Garcia, have you heard from Morgan or Reid?" Hotch asked.

"No," she said shortly, averting her eyes.

"Do you know where they are," Rossi pressed.

"No sir, I don't," she muttered.

"Garcia, there's something you're not telling us," Hotch observed.

"I don't know where they are, but I know they've spent every spare moment of the last few weeks looking for Doyle," she admitted.

"They're working together on it?" Rossi asked.

"Yes," she said. "I think they're working with Clyde Easter."

"And how would they have found him?" Hotch asked, dreading the answer.

"I might have used my tech skills to track him down," Garcia confessed. She considered telling Hotch about the CIA files, but the unit chief was already looking deadly.

"Garcia," Hotch snapped.

"I know sir. I know," she cried desperately. "But Derek was obsessed with finding him and sir he did kill Emily."

"I'll deal with this later," Hotch said. "If they've left to find Doyle they'll have been smart enough to turn of their Bureau phones. Morgan uses a Bureau-issued laptop. Garcia, hack it right now and find out if he was looking anything up last night."

"Yes sir, right away," she replied.

Garcia immediately rebooted her system and began clicking away on her mouse and keyboard. Even in his anger, Hotch couldn't help but be impressed by her speed.

"It looks like he spent the wee hours of this morning looking up information on the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood of New York."

"He must have found some reason to suspect that Doyle is working with the Irish gangs there," Rossi deduced.

"Then that's where we need to be. If they left this afternoon they're probably in New York by now. Seaver's gone home already. Looks like it's just you and me, Dave. Wheels up in 20."

_Stuff is about to go down! Oh, and click that review button. It likes you!_


	12. Chapter 12 Hell's Kitchen

_This is one of three chapters posted around the same time – I broke one huge chapter up into chunks. So before reading, make sure you are up to date! Enjoy!_

Upon their arrival at the New York field office, Morgan, Reid, and Easter were greeted by a blonde agent who appeared to be in his early 40s. He greeted Derek with an embrace.

"Hey, Derek Morgan. It's been forever. How are you?" the man asked?

"I'm great Steve, thanks. Reid, this is SSA Steve Munroe. He and I did a stint in the ATF together back in the day. Steve, this is Dr. Reid from the BAU, and this Clyde Easter with the British SIS, he's working with us on this one. What can you tell us?"

"Well, since I spoke with you I've arranged to have video surveillance put on every known gang hideout in Hell's Kitchen. If he goes in or out tonight, we'll see him."

"Great," Morgan replied. "Now look man, I have to admit, I'm stretching the rules by being here. I have no authorization to launch a raid at these hideouts."

"No problem," Munroe replied. "Our guys can order it. We don't normally get too tangled up in everyday gang stuff. We leave that to the NYPD. But Doyle is wanted for the murder of a federal agent, so if we see him there it is well within our prerogative as a federal agency to go after him."

"Excellent," Easter interjected. "Shall we go inside and have a look then?"

The four men spent the next hour watching well over a dozen screens inside the Bureau offices. Reid's eyes flitted quickly from screen to screen. Easter looked impassively while Morgan burned with intensity. After passing what seemed an eternity in silence, Reid stirred.

"There!" he shouted, indicating the screen showing the entrance to an abandoned office building at 37th and 10th. Morgan and Easter leaned forward. The image was slightly grainy, but Reid, Morgan, and Easter all recognized a man for whom they shared a searing hatred.

"That's him," Easter said. "I'm sure of it. I'd recognize that bastard anywhere."

"Steve, get your boys and get me a warrant," Morgan said. "Let's go."

…

Thirty minutes later, Morgan, Reid, Easter, and a team of New York SWAT agents stood across the street from the building shown on the surveillance tape. Nobody had entered or exited the building after Doyle went in. A joint team of FBI agents and NYPD officers formed a loose perimeter around the building to prevent anyone from escaping. Clad in Kevlar and with guns drawn, the three men advanced toward the main door of the building. Morgan kicked in the door.

"FBI! Put your hands in the air where I can see them!" he screamed.

Six armed men stood in the entrance hall. Easter and Morgan efficiently dispatched with three of them and the others quickly dropped their weapons and made a gesture of surrender.

"If anybody so much as moves, I will shoot to kill," Morgan said. He glanced over at one of the SWAT agents. "You got these guys?" he asked.

"Got it," one confirmed.

"Alright, the rest of us head upstairs," he said. Morgan slowly lead the team up the stairs, followed immediately by Easter, Munroe, Reid, and the SWAT team. Morgan though he heard rushing footsteps from the eighth and topmost level. "I'm taking the top floor. Clyde, you take seven, the rest of you divide the remaining floors."

"Morgan, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go alone," Reid interjected, but Morgan was already flying up the stairs.

Upon reaching the top floor, Morgan saw a figure scrambling up a ladder, trying to get to the roof. What he didn't see was the gun Ian Doyle held in his right hand.

"Oh no you don't you son of a bitch!" Morgan yelled, charging at the figure. Doyle turned and fired.

He missed. The strange angle of the ladder made the shot too difficult. Derek Morgan did not miss. Raising his weapon, he fired and hit one of Doyle's protruding legs. Doyle collapsed to the floor. As Morgan approached, Doyle attempted to fire again, but Morgan kicked the gun out of his hand and punched him across the face. He then holstered his service weapon, drew Emily's old weapon out of the holster on his ankle and placed the muzzle between Doyle's eyes.

"Agent Derek Morgan," Doyle laughed maliciously. "We meet at last."

"You bastard," Morgan responded, seething with intense hatred. "I've waited too long for this."

"Are you going to execute me?" Doyle sneered. "No trial, no jury, no sentence. What a poor FBI agent. Lauren would be so disappointed in you."

"Don't you dare call her that!" Morgan screamed. "Her name was Emily Prentiss."

"Does it really matter that much anymore?" Doyle continued to taunt. "Whatever her name is, she's six feet below the ground. I put her there, but not before I left my mark on her."

Morgan couldn't take anymore. He released the safety on Emily's Glock, placed his finger on the trigger, and hesitated. Emily's voice filled his head.

"You're better than that Morgan. You're one of the good guys."

Suddenly, Emily's voice was replaced by another familiar voice.

"Don't do it Morgan. This isn't what Prentiss would want, and you know it," Aaron Hotchner said.

Morgan glanced behind him. There stood the unit chief, his weapon drawn and pointed at Doyle.

"Hotch…" Morgan said astonished. "What are you doing here?"

"We'll discuss it later," Hotch said. "What is important right now is that you take your finger off that trigger. Emily didn't give her life so that you would turn into a killer. If you shoot him now, he wins. Killing him won't bring Prentiss back, but you will lose everything you've worked for your whole life, and her sacrifice will have been for nothing."

Morgan looked back into the glinting, malevolent eyes of Ian Doyle and tightened his grip on the gun. He then removed the muzzle from between Doyle's eyes and instead used it to strike Doyle across the face. Doyle groaned, blood pouring from his nose. Morgan holstered Emily's weapon, and reached for his cuffs.

"Ian Doyle," he said. His voice trembled and tears began to fall from his eyes. "You are under arrest for the murder of Emily Prentiss. You have the right to remain silent…"

…

A few moments later, Morgan and Hotch emerged from the front door of the office building pushing an injured and silent Doyle ahead of them. Reid, Rossi, Munroe, and the SWAT agents met them outside the door.

"Where's Easter?" Morgan asked Reid.

"I'm not sure, I thought he was with you," Reid replied. "I haven't seen him down here."

"That's weird," Morgan commented.

"Yeah, it is," Reid agreed, but quickly diverted his attention.

"So, how did you know we were here?" Reid asked Rossi.

"Oh, a combination of intuition and a certain computer genius," Rossi said smiling. He, for one, was happy to see Doyle in chains, protocol be damned. He might even deliver a gut punch or two to Doyle himself if he got the chance. He was certainly buying the team a round of drinks in Emily's honor tonight.

"I suppose we're going to catch hell for this one?" Morgan asked Hotch.

"Unfortunately there will probably have to be some sort of repercussions, but I'll make sure it amounts to nothing worse than a paid vacation. I can't officially condone this, but I'm not about to lose any sleep over it," Hotch replied, flashing a look of pure loathing at Doyle.

"I wouldn't celebrate too much Agent Morgan," Doyle growled. "I escaped from North Korea, what makes you think your American prisons scare me?"

Morgan was about to tell Doyle to rot in hell when two shots rang out. Doyle fell to the ground, blood gushing from his heart. He muttered a few words – Morgan thought he heard the word "Declan" – and he was dead. As the police flew into a mild panic, Morgan glanced at the buildng across the street. Atop the roof, he saw the outline of a figure that appeared to be calmly disassembling a rather long rifle. Even from a distance, the figure looked a lot like Clyde Easter.

_So, Doyle is dead and Morgan isn't a killer! When I started this story I didn't plan on having Clyde involved anywhere near this extent, but I knew I wanted Doyle dead and I didn't want to turn any of our BAU heroes into outlaw vigilantes. Clyde seemed to present the perfect solution because he seems to care a lot about Prentiss and can also operate a bit outside the law._

_Anyway, just a couple of chapters left to wrap things up. Please review!_


	13. Chapter 13 Letting Go and Goodbye

_So, this took way too long. It was a bit of a tough one to get right. There will only be one brief chapter after this. As always, please read and review. _

Derek eased his car to a stop in the gravel parking lot and walked out into the pleasantly warm air. Spring was quickly giving way to summer and Derek thought that he could not have asked for a nicer day to come here. As he trod the path he had trod so often in the past month and a half, he felt strangely light without his badge and guns. The previous day, Strauss had suspended him and Reid for two weeks for conducting an unauthorized investigation.

As much as he didn't like being suspended, Derek knew he and Reid would have to answer for their actions and was surprised they had gotten off so light. Strauss would have been well within protocol to issue a much more severe punishment. She also never asked where he and Reid got their information on Doyle's location, although Derek suspected both Strauss and Hotch knew full well that Garcia was involved. For this Derek was grateful. He would have eaten himself alive with guilt if his Baby Girl had gotten in trouble because of him. As much as Strauss could be a pain in the ass most of the time, Derek had to admit she had been pretty generous in her dealings with the team since Emily's death, at least as generous as Strauss could get.

As Derek walked along the rows, nearing her gravesite, he noticed a familiar figure already standing there waiting for him.

"Hello Prentiss," Derek said. "I thought I might see you here."

"How could I not be?" she asked, smiling softly. "You have something to tell me. That's why you're here."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah it is. I need you to tell you a few things actually. I'm glad Doyle is dead, Emily. I'm not going to lie about that. I hate him with every ounce of my being for taking you away. The idea of him living when you're gone made me sick."

"But?" she prompted.

"But I wouldn't have killed him," Derek said firmly. "When I looked into his face and he was taunting me, I realized that even as much as I hated him, killing him would only make me feel hollow. It wouldn't fix this emptiness. It wouldn't bring you back. Even if Hotch hadn't gotten there, I wouldn't have pulled the trigger."

"I know," she said simply.

"I have something else to tell you," he hesitated, sighing heavily. "I'm ready to let you go."

"Good," she said smiling slightly. "I'm glad."

"It doesn't mean that I don't love you and miss you as much as ever. I will think about you every day. I will miss talking to you. But I'm living a lie Emily. You're not really here. You're there," he said, pointing to the ground immediately in front of Emily's headstone. "After Easter killed Doyle I thought I would feel better but I don't. I've finally realized that no matter how hard I try, nothing I do can bring you back. You're gone. And I have to accept that. I…"

"Morgan, stop." Prentiss interrupted. "You don't have to justify this to me. I'm not real, remember? I'm just a part of you. A part that refused to accept the truth. A part you need to let go of. I asked you to let me go. It's what I wanted. You need to be able to move on."

Morgan nodded in silence. He could do nothing but stare at the freshly cut blades of grass brushing against the smooth marble stone. He was afraid looking at her, seeing her soft brown eyes again would cause him to change his mind. Even now he wasn't sure he could go through with this. A small part of him still desperately wanted to believe that, through shear force of will, he could keep her with him, that somehow he could to back to the way things were before when they kicked unsub's asses and often shared long conversations on the plane ride home afterwards. He still thought that letting her go would make him responsible for her being gone. But Derek now had no choice but to admit that none of these things were true. She was gone, and after thinking things over for a long time he had come here today finally prepared to let her go, or at least he was as prepared as he would ever be. If he didn't do it now, he wasn't sure he ever could.

"Well, I guess I should go now," he said at last. "This is your place after all," he smirked slightly.

"Yeah," she chuckled, biting her lip. "Yeah it is. Goodbye, Morgan."

"I love you, Emily. Always."

With one last glance at his friend who wasn't really there. Morgan turned to leave and let her go.

Later that night, Spencer walked into the doors of the BAU. The place was nearly dead silent. Even Hotch had gone home for the night. Only Harvey, the well-liked, white-haired night custodian remained in the office. Harvey often greeted the team when they returned on late night flights from whatever part of the country they'd been working in. He seemed to have a soft spot for them and they for him.

"Boy genius!" Harvey greeted loudly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you aren't supposed to be here for two weeks."

"No, you're not wrong Harvey," Reid chuckled slightly. "I just, uh, forgot something in my desk drawer. I'd like to get it if you don't mind."

"Take your time," Harvey replied kindly, sensing Reid needed a moment alone. "I'll just be out in the hall by the elevators."

"Thanks Harvey," Reid replied.

"No problem," the older man said. He made to exit the office, then paused to turn back to Reid. "You know kid, they never should have suspended you and Derek. I didn't get to talk to Emily much, but she was a good egg. I would have been disappointed if none of you went after the piece of shit who killed her."

"Well, thank you," the young agent responded. "But technically they had to do something. They could have fired us if they wanted."

"And make it without your brains? I'd like to see them try," Harvey scoffed. "Good night, doc."

"Good night, Harvey."

After Harvey exited the BAU offices, Reid approached his desk. Sitting in his black leather office chair, he slid open the top center drawer. He immediately found what he was looking for. A small black wallet sat perched atop Reid's neatly stacked supply of legal pads. The wallet contained Prentiss's badge. Reid had forgotten to grab it from his desk before beginning his suspension. He didn't think much of it at first, but earlier this evening he found himself nearly possessed by the desire to get it back.

He leaned back in his desk chair and flipped open the wallet. As always, his stomach did a slight turn at the sight of the red "DECEASED" stamped across Emily's badge. Rationally, Spencer knew this was a necessary part of protocol to prevent criminals from using the credentials of deceased and retired agents to pose as FBI. But the emotional part of him hated the faceless bureaucrat who made that stamped. Everyone knew damn well Emily was dead; he didn't need the constant reminder every time he opened the wallet to look at her photograph.

Thankfully the ugly stamp didn't mar Prentiss's picture. As he had so often done in the past several weeks, Reid stared into the frozen gaze of his friend. Reid guessed the photo had been taken about six years ago, just before Emily joined the BAU. In the photo, she smiled broadly and her eyes shone brightly. It reminded Reid of happier times. This was the confident person he knew, not the woman who spent her last month plagued by stress, anxiety, and depression before having her life taken. For what must have been the thousandth time, Reid wished he could do something to reverse the events of the last month and a half and have Emily back sitting at the still-empty desk next to him.

At this thought, Reid glanced reflexively at the desk to his left. He was slightly astonished to see Emily there, sitting perched on the top of the desk as she so often sat during after-hours bantering with JJ, Reid, and Morgan.

"Emily, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here because you need me to be," Prentiss replied. "That's the only reason I would be here. You have something to say to me."

Reid looked confused for a split second before realization struck him.

"You're here to hear my goodbye. You think I'm ready."

"You are, Reid," she insisted. "You're ready because you've finally realized something very important."

"I've realized that this isn't my fault," Reid finished her thought.

She nodded, and Reid immediately knew she was right. The whole experience hunting down Doyle made him realize that he was smart enough and strong enough to catch him. Emily just hadn't given him the chance. And now he finally realized why. Not because she didn't believe in him or the team, but because she knew that getting the involved may very well have gotten some of the killed. Reid wasn't the only one who would have been put at risk. Doyle threatened Morgan, Seaver, Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, and maybe even JJ. Though he still desperately wished she would have told them about Doyle, Reid finally understood the enormity of the risk such an action entailed. Not only did he have to stop blaming himself, he had to stop blaming Emily.

"And it's not your fault either," Reid added. "It's Doyle's fault and Doyle's fault alone."

"Exactly," she said.

"I still don't know that I can say goodbye to you Emily. I miss you so much."

"This isn't about me, Reid," she reminded him. "I'm already gone. This is about you. It's about forgiving yourself. It doesn't mean you can't miss me, it just means you've stopped blaming yourself, that you can go through life without being tortured by guilt."

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded. While he fell short of full-fledged tear, his eyes began to moisten slightly. He grabbed the wallet with Emily's badge and held it up to her.

"I'm going to carry this with me forever Emily."

"I know you are."

At that, Reid arose from his chair and said the most difficult phrase he'd uttered in his young life.

"I will never forget about you. Goodbye."

With that, he left the BAU office. As he waved to Harvey on his way to the elevator, looking away as to hide his tears, he mused that it might be a good time to pay a long overdue visit to his mom. He was certainly going to need a few days away.

_So, we'll wrap up with a brief epilogue very soon! Hope you enjoyed._


	14. Chapter 14 Epilogue: Six Months Later

_So, this is just a short epilogue to end our story. Again, feel free to leave comment. Thanks for reading!_

October 12, 2011

It was before 6 a.m. The sun had not yet begun to rise over Washington. Derek zipped his black leather jacket all the way up to his neck, guarding against the early morning autumn chill. He badly desired a freshly-brewed coffee from his favorite corner shop, but he had something very important to do first. In his left hand he carried a fresh paperback copy of Vonnegut's _Mother Night_, in his right hand a single red rose, Morgan made his way up the familiar hill toward Prentiss's headstone, taking care not to slip on the dewy ground carpeted by fallen leaves of brilliant orange, red, and yellow.

As he approached the stone, Derek saw that somebody else had beaten him there. David Rossi stood in stoic silence, staring fixedly at Emily's resting place. His train of thought was broken by the sound of Morgan's approach.

"Morning Rossi," Derek greeted as the senior agent turned in his direction.

"Good morning Morgan," the senior agent, clad in a dark pair of jeans and black overcoat, returned the greeting. "I imagine you're here right now for the same reason as I am."

"Imagine so," Morgan answered.

Rossi glanced at the red rose in Derek's right hand and pointed with his left hand to indicate a white rose lying on the ground against the headstone.

"That one's mine. If I had to guess, I'd say Hotch left that one," Rossi said, pointing to yet another red rose lying beside his own white. "He's the only one who's obsessed enough to head to work earlier than I do. I imagine the others will make their way up here at some point today, either in the next hour or so or after work."

"If they're waiting until after work they better hope we don't have a case," Morgan responded. "I know JJ, Reid, and Garcia would all beat themselves up if they don't make it up here today."

JJ had rejoined the team a few months ago, this time as a profiler. Derek knew everybody on the team was thankful that it was JJ who filled the vacant position on the team (nobody spoke of "replacing" Emily). He was pretty sure JJ was the only person on Earth who Reid could bare to see sitting beside him at Prentiss's old desk. Seaver had transferred to the domestic trafficking unit very shortly after Emily passed. Derek didn't blame her, if he was a rookie agent on a veteran team that experienced the horrific loss of one of its key members, he'd probably transfer too.

Derek noticed that Rossi had lapsed back into silence, and was again staring fixedly at Emily's headstone.

"What's on your mind Rossi?" Derek asked.

Dave jerked his head, as if coming out of a trance, before offering a response.

"I was just thinking, it is impossible to capture the essence of any person by their name, dates, and a few words or so, but for her it seems especially inadequate."

"Yeah," Morgan sighed. "Yeah it does."

Derek didn't think it was even possible to craft a stone big enough to begin to describe his friend.

"My turn to ask you a question," Rossi said. "If you don't want to answer, it's absolutely fine."

Rossi didn't want to expose Morgan to any more pain than he had already gone through and was probably still going through, but he needed to at least ask. Ever since Emily had confided in him about her childhood trauma, he felt inexplicably close to her, like family. He wished had gotten there sooner that night in Boston. He knew he wouldn't have been able to save her, but he wished he had had one last chance to see her, speak to her before the end. But he hadn't been in time. Only Hotch and Morgan had seen her before she died, and only Morgan was with her before she lost consciousness. That was why, as much as it might hurt Morgan, Rossi had to ask him. He needed to know.

"Sure, ask away." Morgan replied.

"That night, when you found her, what happened?"

Derek sighed and bit his lip as a look of pure anguish crossed his face. He had replayed that night over and over again in his mind. He still had nightmares about it fairly often. But he had never told anybody about his last moments with Prentiss, not even Hotch.

"I'm sorry," Rossi said guiltily. "I should never have asked. That wasn't fair."

"No, it's okay Rossi," Morgan interrupted. He swallowed hard before recounting one of his worst memories out loud for the very first time. "By the time I found her, Doyle was already gone. She was lying on the ground. She was bad. Knowing you, I'm sure you read the autopsy report. You know what he did to her. I think I knew in the back of my mind she wasn't going to make it, but I couldn't let myself think like that. All I could think was that she was still there with me, and I had to do everything I could to keep her there. So I talked to her. I begged and begged for her to stay with me. I told her how proud I was to be her friend, her partner. And then she started to slip away. The last thing I remember is her squeezing my hand. Sometimes I swear I still feel it."

"Did she say anything," Rossi pressed. Again, he hated himself for asking, but he needed to know.

As he stared into the ground, barely fighting back tears, Derek nodded.

"Yeah, one thing," he said. "She asked me to let her go."

At this, Rossi had to fight back tears of his own.

"And did you?" the senior agent asked.

"Eventually," Morgan said.

Ross knew he had pushed enough. He gave Derek a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and left him alone.

Derek remained standing there in silence for nearly half an hour. He was slightly surprised to find that he felt just a bit better after talking to Rossi. At little more at peace. He could have stayed there all day, but he knew he needed to be off to the BAU soon.

"Well," he said to the empty air around him, "I need to go make you proud and catch some killers."

He knelt just in front of her stone. He set the Vonnegut book on the ground next to the roses left by Hotch and Rossi. On top of the book, he placed his rose.

"Happy Birthday Prentiss."


End file.
